THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


y 


OSRU 


A  Tale  of  Many  Incarnations 


The  History  of  a  Soul 


By 
JUSTIN    STERNS 


New  York 

Lenox   Publishing  Company 
244  Lenox  Avenue 


Copyright.    1910 

By  Lenox  Publishing  Company. 

Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall 

London 


PS 


CONTENTS 

Introduction 9 

Foreword 13 

Sherau  the  Paraschites  .  .  .  .  25 
Nero  the  Emperor  .  .  .  .49 
Dravid  of  the  Galleys  .  .  .  .67 
Chunda,  wife  of  Ram  Ruoy  .  .  .81 
Lovis,  Sieur  le  Brent  .  .  .  -99 
Don  Jose  de  Roderiguez  .  .  .  in 

Ha  fid,  the  Dwarf 127 

Jeanie  Campbell 137 

Jackson's  Millie 151 

fared  Willson  .  .  .  .<  .  .  171 
Afterword 191 


Have  caution,  O  Soul,  lest  you  soar  on  the 

wings  of  Desire 

To  that  Height  you  aspired  to  reach — and 
beyond,  to  the  Fire. 


OSRU,  A  TALE  OF  MANY  INCARNA 
TIONS. 

INTRODUCTION. 

It  is  not  at  all  necessary  to  believe  the  doc 
trines  of  Karma  and  Reincarnation,  on  which 
it  is  based,  in  order  to  follow  this  history  of 
the  soul  OSRU — known  to  man  as  Nero  in  his 
most  conspicuous  incarnation — a  history 
wherein  through  various  lives  he  reaps  as  he 
has  sown  and  slowly  rises  to  a  height  of  char 
acter  where  right  at  last  seems  greater  to  him 
than  might.  But  it  is,  of  course,  very  essen 
tial  to  understand  these  beliefs. 

Briefly,  then,  Karma  is  the  doctrine  (held 
by  something  like  three-fourths  of  the  inhabi- 

9 


OSRU 

tants  of  the  world)  that  each  one  reaps  the 
fruits  of  his  own  deeds,  good  or  bad,  at  the 
same  time  learning  through  his  suffering  to 
be  unwilling  to  inflict  similar  pain  on  another. 
The  drift  being  ever  upward,  each  learns  by 
doing  what  he  desires  to  do — and  taking  the 
consequences — to  discriminate  between  good 
and  evil  and  to  desire  the  good. 

Reincarnation,  which  is  always  believed  in 
where  Karma  is  accepted,  provides  the  oppor 
tunity  for  reaping  the  fruits  of  one's  deeds  and 
desires.  The  main  tenet  of  Reincarnation  is 
known  to  every  one,  namely:  That  we  live 
repeatedly,  taking  up  the  business  of  growing 
better  each  time  at  that  point  where  we  left  off. 

In  brief,  Karma  is  the  Christian  doctrine, 
"Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also 
reap."  And  Reincarnation  is  merely  the 
means  to  that  end. 

There  is  only  one  more  point  which  may  not 
10 


INTRODUCTION 

be  generally  understood.  The  reincarnating 
ego  is  sexless;  taking  form  in  whatever  en 
vironment,  and  with  whichever  sex  provides 
the  best  opportunity  for  its  next  lesson. 


ii 


FOREWORD. 

I  leaned  from  the  low-hung  crescent  moon 
and  grasping  the  west-pointing  horn  of  it 
looked  down.  Against  the  other  horn  reclined, 
motionless,  a  Shining  One  and  looked  at  me, 
but  I  was  unafraid.  Below  me  the  hills  and 
valleys  were  thick  with  humans,  and  the  moon 
swung  low  that  I  might  see  what  they  did. 

"Who  are  they?"  I  asked  of  the  Shining 
One.  For  I  was  unafraid. 

And  the  Shining  One  made  answer: 

"They  are  the  Sons  of  God  and  the  Daugh 
ters  of  God." 

13 


OSRU 

I  looked  again,  and  saw  that  they  beat  and 
trampled  each  other.  Sometimes  they  seemed 
not  to  know  that  the  fellow-creature  they 
pushed  from  their  path  fell  under  their  feet. 
But  sometimes  they  looked  as  he  fell  and 
kicked  him  brutally. 

And  I  said  to  the  Shining  One : 

"Are  they  all  the  Sons  and  Daughters  of 
God?" 

And  the  Shining  One  said:    "All." 

As  I  leaned  and  watched  them,  it  grew  clear 
to  me  that  each  was  frantically  seeking  some 
thing,  and  that  it  was  because  they  sought 
what  they  sought  with  such  singleness  of  pur 
pose  that  they  were  so  inhuman  to  all  who 
hindered  them.  And  I  said  to  the  Shining 
One: 

"What  do  they  seek?" 

And  the  Shining  One  made  answer :  "Hap 
piness." 

14 


FOREWORD 

"Are  they  all  seeking  Happiness?" 

"All." 

"Have  any  of  them  found  it?" 

"None  of  those  have  found  it." 

"Do  they  ever  think  they  have  found  it?" 

"Sometimes  they  think  they  have  found  it." 

My  eyes  filled,  for  at  that  moment  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  a  woman  with  a  babe  at  her 
breast,  and  I  saw  the  babe  torn  from  her  and 
the  woman  cast  into  a  deep  pit  by  a  man  with 
his  eyes  fixed  on  a  shining  yellow  lump  that 
he  believed  to  be  (or  perchance  to  contain,  I 
know  not)  Happiness. 

And  I  turned  to  the  Shining  One,  my  eyes 
blinded. 

"Will  they  ever  find  it?" 

And  he  said:   "They  will  find  it." 

"All  of  them?" 

"All  of  them."  ;| 

"Those  who  are  trampled?" 

15 


OSRU 

"Those  who  are  trampled." 

"And  those  who  trample  ?" 

"And  those  who  trample." 

I  looked  again,  a  long  time,  at  what  they 
were  doing  on  the  hills  and  in  the  valleys,  and 
again  my  eyes  went  blind  with  tears,  and  I 
sobbed  out  to  the  Shining  One: 

"Is  it  God's  will,  or  the  work  of  the  Devil, 
that  men  seek  Happiness?" 

"It  is  God's  will." 

"And  it  looks  so  like  the  work  of  the 
Devil!" 

The  Shining  One  smiled  inscrutably. 

"It  does  look  like  the  work  of  the  Devil." 

When  I  had  looked  a  little  longer,  I  cried 
out,  protesting: 

"Why  has  He  put  them  down  there,  to  seek 
Happiness  and  to  cause  each  other  such  un- 
measurable  misery?" 

Again  the  Shining  One  smiled  inscrutably. 
16 


FOREWORD 

i 
"They  are  learning." 

"What  are  they  learning?" 

"They  are  learning  Life.  And  they  are 
learning  Love." 

I  said  nothing.  One  man  in  the  herd  below 
held  me  breathless,  fascinated.  He  walked 
proudly,  and  others  ran  and  laid  the  bound, 
struggling  bodies  of  living  men  before  him, 
that  he  might  tread  upon  them  and  never 
touch  foot  to  earth.  But  suddenly  a  whirl 
wind  seized  him  and  tore  his  purple  from  him 
and  set  him  down,  naked  among  strangers. 
And  they  fell  upon  him  and  maltreated  him 
sorely. 

I  clapped  my  hands. 

"Good!  Good!"  I  cried,  exultantly.  "He  got 
what  he  deserved!" 

Then  I  looked  up  suddenly,  and  saw  again 
the  inscrutable  smile  of  the  Shining  One. 

And  the  Shining  One  spake: 

17 


OSRU 

"They  all  get  what  they  deserve." 

"And  no  worse?" 

"And  no  worse." 

"And  no  better?" 

"How  can  there  be  any  better?  They  each 
deserve  whatever  shall  teach  them  the  true 
way  to  Happiness." 

I  was  silenced. 

And  still  the  people  went  on  seeking,  and 
trampling  each  other  in  their  eagerness  to  find. 
And  I  perceived,  what  I  had  not  fully  grasped 
before,  that  the  Whirlwind  caught  them  up 
from  time  to  time  and  set  them  down  else 
where  to  continue  the  Search. 

And  I  said  to  the  Shining  One : 

"Does  the  Whirlwind  always  set  them  down 
again  on  these  hills  or  in  these  valleys?" 

And  the  Shining  One  made  answer: 

"Not  always  on  these  hills  or  in  these  val 
leys." 

18 


FOREWORD 

"Where  then?" 

"Look  above  you." 

And  I  looked  up.  Above  me  stretched  the 
Milky  Way  and  gleamed  the  stars. 

And  I  breathed  "Oh"  and  fell  silent,  awed 
by  what  it  was  given  to  me  to  comprehend. 

Below  me,  they  still  trampled  each  other. 

And  I  asked  the  Shining  One: 

"But  no  matter  where  the  Whirlwind  sets 
them  down,  they  go  on  seeking  Happiness?" 

"They  go  on  seeking  Happiness." 

"And  the  Whirlwind  makes  no  mistakes?" 

"It  makes  no  mistakes." 

"It  puts  them,  sooner  or  later,  where  they 
will  get  what  they  deserve?" 

"Sooner  or  later,  where  they  will  get  what 
they  deserve." 

Then  the  load  crushing  my  heart  lightened, 
and  I  found  I  could  look  at  the  brutal  cruel 
ties  that  went  on  below  me  with  pity  for  the 

19 


OSRU 

cruel.    And  the  longer  I  looked  the  stronger 
the  pity  grew. 

And  I  said  to  the  Shining  One : 

"They  act  like  men  goaded." 

"They  are  goaded." 

"What  goads  them?" 

"The  name  of  the  goad  is  Desire." 

Then,  when  I  had  looked  a  little  longer,  I 
cried  out  passionately: 

"Desire  is  an  evil  thing!" 

But  the  face  of  the  Shining  One  grew  stern 
and  his  voice  rang  out,  dismaying  me: 

"Desire  is  not  an  evil  thing." 

I  trembled,  and  Thought  withdrew  herself 
into  the  innermost  chamber  of  my  heart.  Till 
at  last  I  said  : 

"It  is  Desire  that  nerves  men  on  to  learn 
the  lessons  God  has  set?" 

"It  is  Desire  that  nerves  them." 
20 


FOREWORD 

! 

"The  Lessons  of  Life  and  Love?" 

"Of  Life  and  Love." 

Then  I  looked  again  into  the  valley,  and  the 
load  was  gone  from  my  heart.  And  I  could 
no  longer  see  that  they  were  cruel.  I  could 
only  see  that  they  were  learning. 

I  watched  them,  one  by  one,  but  the  Whirl 
wind  always  carried  them  out  of  sight. 

Then  I  turned  to  the  Shining  One  beseech 
ingly: 

"If  I  could  only  follow  one  when  the  Whirl 
wind  takes  him,  and  follow  him  and  follow 
him " 

I  looked  into  the  unfathomable,  smiling  eyes 
of  the  Shining  One,  and  my  eyes  plead  with 
him. 

And  the  Shining  One  said: 

"You  shall  follow  and  follow.     Choose." 

And  my  eyes  fell  again  upon  the  earth. 
21 


OSRU 

There  lay  the  banks  of  the  Nile.  I  saw  a  man 
with  the  terror  of  death  in  his  face  who  ran 
like  the  wind  of  the  desert. 

And  I  said  to  the  Shining  One: 

"I  choose  him." 

And  the  Shining  One  said :  "So  be  it,"  and 
was  gone. 

And  I  found  myself  on  the  earth  beside  that 
man,  and  I  saw  all  things  whatsoever  he  did, 
and  the  things  that  befell  him,  and  whenever 
the  Whirlwind  took  him,  it  took  me  also. 


22 


Lo!    Desire  is  potent.     But  linger;  the  Path 

that  you  choose 
Leads,  perchance,  where  the  Sun  hides  his 

face,  and  the  Hell-waters  ooze. 


SHERAU  THE  PARASCHITES. 

BEING  INCARNATION  THE  -  -  FIRST  OF  THE 
SOUL  OSRU 

Sherau,  the  paraschites,  having  made  the 
eight  incisions  required  by  law  in  the  body  of 
the  most  noble  Rameses  I.  fled  for  his  life  from 
the  shower  of  well-directed  stones  that  were 
his  immediate  portion. 

For  his  life  in  very  truth,  since  this  was  one 
of  those  happily  rare  occasions  when  the  body 
desecrated  by  the  abhorred  knife  of  the  em- 
balmer's  most  vile  but  necessary  assistant,  the 
paraschites,  was  that  of  a  Pharaoh.  The 
stones  hurled  at  him  were  twice  the  size  used 
by  the  onlookers  to  express  their  rage  at  the 

25 


OSRU 

mutilation  of  the  dead  body  of  a  slave,  or 
even  a  citizen.  Moreover,  the  throng  in  the 
City  of  the  Dead,  that  lay  across  the  sacred 
Nile  on  the  hither  bank  from  Thebes,  was 
many  times  greater  today  than  on  days  of  less 
notable  embalmings.  In  fact,  if  no  chance- 
directed  stone  of  the  many  that  rained  about 
him  found  its  mark  and  made  him  even  as  the 
great  Rameses  now  was,  then  indeed  had  the 
sheltering  arm  of  the  god  of  the  outcast  para- 
schites  been  over  him  during  his  mad  race. 

Sherau  stumbled  on  into  the  shelter  of  the 
nearest  thicket,  cursing  the  fate  that  had 
caused  him  to  be  born  a  paraschites,  bruised 
and  stinging  from  the  stones  that  had  found 
him  but  freer  than  on  some  former  occasions 
from  downright  hurt.  He  threw  himself  face 
downward  among  the  papyrus  reeds  and  laid 
his  forehead  on  his  crossed  arms,  breathed 
and  shaken  by  his  wild  run  and  trembling  with 

26 


SHERAU 

relief.  For  Fear  of  Death  and  Lust  of  Life 
had  stalked  at  the  right  shoulder  and  at  the 
left  of  Sherau  the  paraschites  since  the  hour 
he  knew  that  the  king  was  dead,  and  that  the 
doubtful  honor  of  assisting  to  prepare  the 
royal  mummy  was  to  be  his. 

"Now  by  the  great  God  Seth,"  gasped 
Sherau,  under  his  breath  lest  any  pious  Egyp 
tian  should  hear  him  call  on  the  name  of  the 
god  of  all  evil,  "if  I  had  but  the  power  of 
Rameses,  son  of  Rameses,  over  the  thrower  of 
every  stone  flung  at  me  this  day  for  just  one 
little  hour ;  one  little,  little  hour !  Ah-e !  but  I 
would  wring  their  necks !  With  my  two  hands 
I  would  wring  them."  And  his  two  hands 
could  have  made  short  work  of  the  necks  of 
most  men. 

"If  I  were  but  Rameses  the  Living!  Ah-e! 
Ah-e !  Ah-e !  They  should  make  me  sport  for 
a  thousand  years,  those  throwers  of  stones  and 

27 


OSRU 

shouters  of  evil  names.  Ah-e!"  Sherau  was 
reviving. 

He  drew  himself  up  furtively,  into  the  most 
reverential  attitude  of  the  praying  Egyptian, 
and  sucked  in  a  long  breath. 

"O  Mighty  Seth!  Give  me  the  power  of 
Rameses — the  power  of  Rameses — the  power 
of  Rameses!" 

The  veins  stood  out  swollen  and  blue  on  his 
neck  and  forehead,  and  on  his  clenched  hands, 
and  he  prayed  without  ceasing  till  he  fell  over 
on  his  side,  exhausted. 

He  roused  up  when  the  tumult  of  the  peo 
ple  who  followed  the  chariot  of  Rameses  II. 
as  he  returned  across  the  river  to  Thebes, 
reached  him. 

Sherau  crept  to  the  edge  of  the  thicket,  and 
lay  concealed  where  the  whole  sweep  of  the 
road  for  half  a  mile  spread  out  below  him. 

His  eyes  were  set  wide  open,  and  blazed  like 
28 


SHERAU 

the  unwinking,  jewel  eyes  of  an  idol.  As  he 
sprawled  full  length  among  the  reeds  he  dug 
his  naked  toes  into  the  soft,  black  earth  and 
his  hands  reached  out  and  clutched  all  they 
could  hold  of  the  slender  papyri  and  crushed 
them  together  savagely.  While  he  watched 
the  passing  pageant  his  lips  writhed  over  his 
strong,  white  teeth,  making  of  his  face  a  most 
wonderful  series  of  gargoyle  masks.  At  any 
moment,  as  he  beheld  the  approach  and  de 
parture  of  the  Pharaoh  and  his  attendants,  his 
head  was  a  fitting  model  for  a  heathen  idol  of 
the  sort  they  appease  with  the  sacrifice  of  lit 
tle  children. 

Presently  Sherau  betook  himself  to  his 
hovel,  in  the  mean  quarter  where  the  Thebans 
allowed  such  outcasts  as  paraschites  to  live, 
and  there  ate,  drank  and  made  merry  with 
others  of  his  calling  because,  having  mutilated 
the  body  of  a  Pharaoh  that  day,  he  was  neither 

29 


OSRU 

a  corpse  nor  a  cripple  at  nightfall,  an  escape 
unparalleled  since  men  first  became  mummies. 

But  in  the  middle  of  the  hot  and  windless 
night  that  followed,  sleepless  in  spite  of  the 
wine,  Sherau  left  his  hut  and  sought  a  place  he 
knew  on  the  Nile  bank  a  little  beyond  the  City 
of  the  Dead. 

Directly  he  reached  the  spot  he  set  about 
what  he  had  come  to  do,  for  it  was  not  the 
aimless  restlessness  of  insomnia  that  had  sent 
him  night-wandering,  and  it  was  not  the  first 
time,  nor  the  second,  nor  the  tenth,  that  he 
had  spent  the  hours  before  dawn  in  his  pres 
ent  occupation. 

He  stalked  the  bushes  skillfully  until  he  suc 
ceeded  in  laying  hands  of  violence  on  a  small 
she-bird  with  her  three  young  ones.  Long 
practice  had  made  him  deft  at  this.  To-night, 
the  male  bird  escaped.  Had  the  best  of  luck 
been  his  he  would  have  had  that  also. 

30 


SHERAU 

Sherau  drew  from  the  bushes  a  small  wicker 
cage  in  which  he  put  his  captives.  The  young 
birds  presently  gave  over  squawking  and  the 
mother  bird,  worried  and  wakeful  over  her 
changed  surroundings,  settled  again  on  her 
nest  to  make  the  best  of  it. 

Sherau's  eyes  sought  the  moon.  It  was  still 
an  hour  too  high  for  safety  in  his  main  enter 
prise.  But  fair  sport  could  be  had  in  the  in 
terval.  He  threw  himself  down  and  tore  up 
the  thick  vegetation  leaving  a  level,  cleared 
space  under  his  eyes,  as  he  supported  himself 
on  his  elbow.  A  luckless  dragon  fly  lit  in  the 
little  arena.  Immediately,  Sherau's  great  hand 
covered  it.  Through  his  fingers  he  watched 
its  agitated  fluttering. 

"I  am  a  mightier  than  Rameses,"  he  mut 
tered.  "I  am  Sherau  the  Great,  king  of  land 
and  sea.  King  of  the  whole  world.  Every 
nation  is  mine  or  pays  me  tribute.  A  thou- 

31 


OSRU 

sand  slaves  in  my  palace  sweat  daily  in  my 
service.  An  hundred  thousand  are  building 
my  tomb,  that  shall  be  the  wonder  of  the  ages. 
My  name  shall  never  be  forgotten.  I  am 
Sherau  the  King. 

"This  slave  here,"  he  mumbled  on,  "hath 
crossed  my  path  in  somewhat.  I  have  cast 
him  in  chains.  How  shall  I  serve  him,  that 
he  may  feel  the  displeasure  of  the  King  of  the 
World  and  all  my  subjects  tremble  at  his  fate? 
Hold!  'Tis  a  woman  slave.  See!  she  flaunts 
in  gauze.  I  have  but  wearied  of  her.  There 
fore  I  will  graciously  spare  her  life.  I  will 
merely  strip  her  of  these  costly  garments  of 
gold  embroidered  gauze  and  cast  her  out — to 
be  the  dancing  girl  of  the  paraschites.  Ah-e! 
from  the  palace  of  Sherau  the  Great  to  the 
dens  of  the  paraschites!  That  were  worse 
than  death !"  He  caught  the  dragon  fly  care- 

32 


SHERAU 

fully  and  held  it  down  firmly  by  its  outspread 
wings,  reveling  in  its  struggles. 

"So!  my  fair  one!  Thou  dost  not  wish  to 
be  shorn  of  thy  finery  and  leave  the  palace  of 
Sherau  the  Emperor?  'Tis  thine  own  fault. 
With  thy  great  beauty  thou  shouldst  so  have 
charmed  me  that  I  would  never  have  parted 
with  thee.  Nay,  thou  mightest  have  sat  on  an 
Empress's  throne.  'Tis  without  use  that  thou 
strugglest.  By  thy  mighty  master's  com 
mands  thou  art  stripped  of  thy  gauds — one  by 
one!" 

With  the  deliberation  of  an  executioner 
Sherau  robbed  the  creature  of  its  delicate 
wings  and  let  it  go. 

"There!  Get  thee  hence  and  queen  it  over 
the  paraschites.  Ah-e !  'Tis  almost  too  much 
favor  to  those  dogs  that  they  should  have 
thee !  Mayhap  some  day  when  other  pleasures 

33 


OSRU 

pall,  I  will  seek  thee  out  in  thy  den  and  thou 
shalt  thank  thy  king  that  he  spared  thy  life 
to-night." 

He  lolled  back  on  his  elbow  and  waited,  for 
Sherau  played  the  game  scrupulously  by  the 
rules  he  had  made  for  it.  Only  those  creatures 
that  ventured  into  the  little  arena  represented 
the  unfortunate  objects  of  the  mighty  She- 
rau's  displeasure. 

Suddenly  he  leaned  forward  with  stopped 
breath.  A  sacred  beetle!  lo!  a  sacred  beetle! 
Never  before  had  the  power  that  ruled  pro 
vided  a  scarab  to  become  the  object  of  the  royal 
anger. 

Sherau  the  paraschites  threw  himself  flat 
on  his  chest  in  an  ecstasy,  and  reaching  for 
ward  with  both  hands  caged  the  new  prisoner 
where  it  stood.  There  was  not  a  spark  of  awe 
for  the  holy  things  of  Egypt  in  him.  Instead 
a  tremulous  delight  and  a  huge  sense  of  power 

34 


SHERAU 

at  being  able  to  torture  and  finally  to  slay  that 
which  it  meant  death  to  an  Egyptian  to  kill, 
even  by  accident,  if  the  fact  became  known. 

"An  high  priest!"  whispered  Sherau,  with 
sparkling  eyes.  "An  high  priest!  Now,  in 
deed,  hath  Sherau  the  King  fit  sport !" 

Carefully  prisoning  the  beetle  with  one 
hand,  with  the  other  he  stripped  from  a  reed 
a  fibre  of  the  strength  and  flexibility  of  thread. 
He  looped  it  about  his  quarry,  between  the 
first  and  second  segments,  and  holding  an  end 
in  either  hand  he  settled  down  to  gloat  over 
its  struggles  and  to  weave  great  dreams  of 
absolute  power  out  of  them,  that  should  trick 
him  into  forgetting  that  he  was  a  dog  of  a 
paraschites. 

"  Tis  Ami,"  he  muttered,  "who  bade  me 
prepare  the  body  of  that  dead  dog  of  a  Rame- 
ses  to-day.  Now  shall  he  get  his  deserts !" 

With  dilating  nostrils  he  tormented  the  in- 

35 


OSRU 

sect  a  while,  letting  it  seem  to  escape  and 
dragging  it  rudely  back. 

"So !  Didst  thou  think  to  flee  the  vengeance 
of  thy  king,  unhappy  priest?  Nay,  now,  the 
hour  of  thy  death  is  set  and  written.  I  do 
but  play  with  thee  a  little  space,  ere  I  deliver 
thee  over  to  the  executioner.  Fit  sport  for 
kings !  Fit  sport  for  kings !"  he  muttered. 

"Now,  now,  thou  wretched  one,"  impa 
tiently,  "if  thou  wilt  not  be  quiet — we  must  see 
what  can  be  done  to  quiet  thee.  My  hands 
weary  of  keeping  such  constant  hold  on  thy 
rope/' 

One  by  one,  he  removed  the  legs  of  the  in 
sect,  thrilling  at  each  desecration  of  the  sacred 
creature  as  though  it  were  in  fact  the  living 
body  of  his  enemy,  the  high  priest,  that  he 
mutilated. 

"Now,  at  last,  thou  art  content  to  be  quiet, 

36 


SHERAU 

art  them  ?  But  thy  submission  cometh  too  late 
to  avail  thee  aught.  Thou  shouldst  have  bent 
the  knee  to  Sherau,  and  ceased  to  cross  his 
mighty  will,  ere,  by  his  orders,  thou  wert  shorn 
of  thy  sacred  office.  His  word  is  given.  Thou 
must  die." 

He  put  the  beetle  through  the  bars  of  the 
wicker  cage,  and  roughly  prodded  the  bird 
awake.  But  she  refused  to  touch  it.  Perhaps 
the  impulse  to  eat  lay  dormant  in  her  during 
the  hours  belonging  to  sleep. 

"Then  will  I  be  thy  executioner,"  snarled 
Sherau.  With  a  quick  jerk  he  tightened  the 
loop  of  reed  fibre,  and  directly  the  body  of  the 
sacred  scarabaeus  of  the  Nile  lay  dismem 
bered  before  him. 

"Carrion,"  he  muttered,  poking  it  out  of 
sight  among  the  reeds. 

He  looked  at  the  moon. 

37 


OSRU 

"One  more!  There  is  time  for  one  more!" 
he  whispered,  gluttonously,  and  settled  himself 
to  watch. 

"The  next  shall  be  Setos,  the  wine-seller," 
he  mused.  "He  hath  done  me  an  ill  turn  this 
day  concerning  the  price  of  that  fourth  bottle 
of  wine.  'Twas  half  water — ah-e!  Setos! 
welcome!"  Sherau's  long  arm  shot  out  in 
greeting.  He  grasped  by  the  gorgeous  wings 
the  moth  that  had  come  unwittingly  to  play 
the  sorry  role  of  Setos. 

"Thou  goest  finely  clad,  O  Setos,  charger 
of  three  prices  for  thy  diluted  wine !  'Tis  sim 
ple  justice  that  I  should  take  from  thee  this 
gaudy  cloak  thou  gottest  by  such  thievery. 
There !  Henceforth  go  afoot,  and  clad  in  rags. 
'Tis  properer  so.  And  harken,  Setos!  Hadst 
thou  not  spat  upon  me  for  an  'outcast  dog  of 
a  paraschites'  when  I  told  thee  of  the  water 
in  thy  wine,  then  would  I  have  soared  thee  this 

38 


SHERAU 

further  punishment.  Seest  thou  this  house  of 
twigs  I  build  thee  with  mine  own  hands? 
Therein  shalt  thou  stay  till  thou  diest  of  hun 
ger  and  thirst.  For  thy  sins,  O  Setos.  Ah-e ! 
Setos!  Sherau  the  Mighty  is  long  of  arm  and 
strong  of  hand.  Thou  wilt  never  sell  poor 
wine  again." 

He  looked  for  the  third  time  at  the  moon, 
and  getting  up  stretched  lustily.  His  night  of 
pleasure  was  not  half  over.  If  that  which  was 
to  follow  did  but  equal  what  was  just  com 
pleted,  then  would  the  days  of  terror  he  had 
endured  since  the  death  of  Rameses  be  alto 
gether  wiped  out.  He  took  up  the  cage  of 
nesting  birds  and  plunged  deeper  into  the 
thicket. 

Presently  he  reached  a  small  pit  covered 
with  a  lattice  of  twigs,  and  cunningly  con 
trived  to  escape  notice.  Many  an  anxious  hour 
had  Sherau  spent  on  the  construction  of  this 

39 


OSRU 

dungeon,  knowing  perfectly  that  discovery 
would  cost  him  his  life.  Now,  after  a  thor 
ough  reconnoitre,  he  put  in  his  hand  and  drew 
forth  his  royal  prisoner — a  starveling  kitten 
some  six  months  old.  Of  a  truth,  this  Egyp 
tian  holdeth  nought  holy !  In  his  mad  lust  for 
power  he  layeth  violent  hands  on  all  that  is 
most  sacred  to  his  race.  Nothing  could  save 
an  Egyptian  who  was  known  to  have  killed  a 
cat.  It  is  a  tremulous  joy  to  Sherau,  when  life 
is  hardest  and  he  is  made  most  keenly  to  feel  a 
miserable  outcast,  to  remember  that  thrice 
already  he  has  done  what  not  one  of  his  per- 
secuters  would  dare  do — and  yet  he  lives! 

There  was  water  at  all  times  in  the  den  of 
the  half-starved  kitten,  which  Sherau  had 
risked  his  life  five  months  before  to  steal. 
Food  he  brought  as  he  had  brought  it  now, 
not  too  often,  lest  his  coming  be  observed. 
Moreover,  there  was  vivider  delight  to  be  had 

40      ' 


SHERAU 

from  the  antics  of  his  prisoner  when  its  hun 
ger  was  keen.  Sherau  laughed  aloud  now, 
as  the  kitten  glared  at  the  birds  and  began  to 
lash  its  tail. 

He  threw  himself  down  again  on  his  belly, 
with  his  puppets  within  sweep  of  his  long 
arms.  And  first,  disregarding  the  agony  of 
the  awakened  mother  bird,  he  took  the  cat  in 
his  brutal  hands  and  looked  it  over  sharply. 
The  creature  bore  the  scars  on  its  thin  body 
of  previous  torture.  Not  hunger  only  did 
Sherau  the  Great  mete  out  to  his  royal  pris 
oner. 

"Ah-e !  Rameses  the  Little !  Thy  namesake 
is  dead.  This  day  have  I  thrust  my  knife  into 
him.  Shall  I  therefore  do  likewise  unto  thee? 
— or  save  thee  a  while  that  thou  mayest  make 
sport  for  me?  Art  hungered,  little  king?  em 
peror  that  was  ?  dethroned  one  ?  So !  then  thou 
shalt  kill  but  not  eat !  kill  but  not  eat !  kill  but 


OSRU 

not  eat!  Thou  that  wert  king,  thou  shalt  be 
executioner,  despised  of  the  people  and  profit 
ing  not  by  the  deaths  of  thy  victims." 

He  put  the  cat  back  in  its  hole  and  turned 
his  attention  to  the  birds. 

"Thou  first!"  to  the  mother  bird,  "that  thy 
squawking  may  cease." 

He  looped  a  cord  about  her  neck  and  under 
her  wings  and  then,  with  evil  ingenuity,  wound 
another  one  around  her  bill  so  that  her  fear 
was  no  longer  audible.  Returning  her  to  the 
cage  he  bound  her  offspring  in  the  same  way. 

"The  anger  of  the  mighty  Sherau  is  great," 
he  muttered  to  them.  "Ye  slept,  and  danger 
threatened  the  life  of  the  king  your  master, 
whom  ye  were  appointed  to  guard.  Treason! 
Quick  death  were  a  thousand  times  too  mer 
ciful.  Sherau  will  show  the  world  a  king's 
displeasure.  Ye  shall  die  a  death  not  known 
to  man  until  this  day.  Ye  shall  be  thrown  to 

42 


SHERAU 

the  lions.  Ah-e!  Never  again  will  a  soldier 
of  Sherau  the  King  fall  asleep  at  his  post." 

He  took  out  the  starveling  cat,  and  slipping 
the  loop  at  the  loose  end  of  the  rope  tied  round 
its  neck  over  his  wrist,  he  watched  his  frantic 
assaults  on  the  cage,  chuckling  at  the  mad 
nesses  of  terror  and  hunger  being  enacted  for 
his  pleasure.  At  length  he  drew  back  the  cat, 
and  taking  out  one  of  the  birds  held  it  by  its 
tether,  cleverly  playing  one  against  the  other 
until,  satiated,  he  permitted  the  kill. 

He  threw  the  bird  into  the  hole  and  beat  the 
cat  off  cruelly  when  he  tried  to  follow,  at 
length  taking  another  bird  from  the  cage  and 
thrusting  it  almost  against  his  muzzle  to  dis 
tract  his  attention.  So  the  game  went  on.  But 
at  the  third  kill,  as  Sherau  beat  him  off  when 
he  tried  to  follow  and  eat,  the  half-crazed  kit 
ten  turned  on  him  and  did  quick  havoc  with 
his  claws.  Sherau  caught  him  round  the  neck, 

43 


OSRU 

cursing  savagely,  and  almost  strangled  him. 
Presently  he  muttered,  loosening  his  clutch: 

"Thou  shalt  die  to-night  for  this  that  thou 
hast  done."  The  blood  was  streaming  from 
his  right  hand.  "But  first  complete  thy  work. 
There  is  yet  one  other  needs  thy  claws.  Then 
will  I  strangle  thee,  O  Rameses,  with  this 
same  hand  that  thou  hast  torn — as  I  would  I 
could  strangle  thy  namesake,  who  sleeps  to 
night  in  the  bed  of  his  father." 

The  moon  was  close  on  an  hour  lower  when 
they  broke  in  upon  him,  the  lifeless  kitten  still 
hanging  limp  in  his  bloodstained  hand. 

Sherau  sprang  to  his  feet  at  their  storm  of 
hostile  cries,  swinging  the  kitten  defiantly 
about  his  head  with  a  loud  scream  of  laugh 
ter.  Death  had  come  to  him,  death  so  certain 
that  the  idea  of  seeking  to  escape  it  did  not 
enter  his  mind.  Instead,  Fear  of  Death  and 
Lust  of  Life  stood  again  at  his  right  shoulder 

44 


SHERAU 

and  at  his  left,  and  they  rent  his  brain  between 
them  so  that  he  went  altogether  mad. 

"I  go  to  the  Halls  of  Osiris,"  he  shouted. 
"Yea,  I  go !  but  come  thou  with  me !  I  go  not 
alone!  not  alone!  I  am  Sherau  the  Mighty, 
king  of  the  earth  and  of  men.  If  I  go  this 
night  to  the  Halls  of  the  Dead,  I  go  fitly 
attended.  Come  with  me,  thou !  and  thou !  and 
thou!"  He  felled  them  like  oxen. 

The  moon  dropped  lower  and  hid  behind  the 
thicket,  leaving  the  Nile  in  starry  darkness  and 
Sherau,  with  four  others,  lying  stark  beside 
the  stark  kitten. 


45 


Lo!     Desire  is  potent.     Behold!     What  you 

crave  shall  be  yours, 
To  your  uttermost  dream  and  beyond  it.     But 

Justice  endures. 


NERO  THE  EMPEROR. 

BEING  INCARNATION  THE  -  -  SECOND  OF  THE 
Sour,  OSRU 

The  Imperial  One  awoke  refreshed.  He 
had  slept  like  an  infant  from  sunrise  to  sun 
rise  and  now,  stretching  deliciously  like  a  child 
and  with  a  child's  keen  satisfaction  in  the  mere 
feel  of  the  morning  air,  he  returned  to  con 
sciousness. 

"Of  a  truth  I  am  indeed  as  the  gods,"  he 
murmured  languorously,  "since  not  even  such 
a  magnificent  orgy  as  that" — his  mind  swept 
rapidly  over  the  ten  hours  that  immediately 
preceded  his  just-finished  slumber — "requires 
of  me  the  price  of  aching  body  and  splitting 

49 


OSRU 

head  that  mortals  commonly  pay  for  their  in- 
tenser  pleasures." 

It  was  god-like.  He  yawned  lazily,  lost  in 
admiration  of  himself. 

'Twas  indeed  marvellous  that  a  man  could 
so  drain  the  cup,  leave  but  the  dregs,  and  set 
it  down  with  a  steady  hand.  Would  the  day 
ever  come  when  this  iron  body  of  his  would 
fail  him — Nay!  He  was  the  special  care  of 
the  Olympians;  more,  a  god  himself!  'Twas 
their  ichor  in  his  veins  made  him  thus  strong. 
And  his  mind,  dismissing  the  subject  care 
lessly  dwelt  happily,  instead,  on  his  last  wak 
ing  hours,  re-living  them  with  zest. 

At  length  he  raised  himself  on  his  elbow  and 
looked  around.  The  slave  who  alone  remained 
in  his  chamber  while  he  slept,  crouched  cross- 
legged  in  his  corner,  dozing. 

Seeing  that  he  slept,  Nero  chuckled  like  a 
mischievous  boy  about  to  tickle  an  unconscious 

50 


NERO 

comrade  witfi  a  straw.  Slipping  from  his  bed, 
his  delicious  languor  dispelled  for  a  moment, 
he  looked  about  for  a  fitting  instrument  of 
torture. 

"By  Mercury!  the  very  thing!" 

He  tore  down  certain  long  cords  that 
adorned  the  costly  hangings  of  his  couch,  and 
making  a  slip-noose  he  dropped  it  stealthily 
over  the  head  of  the  sleeping  man.  With  the 
other  end  in  his  hand  he  returned  to  his  bed 
and  stretched  himself  out  luxuriously. 

"Now  would  a  few  choice  spirits  were  with 
me  to  see  me  give  this  fellow  the  lesson  he 
needs,"  quoth  Nero  to  himself,  right  merrily. 
"But  no  matter.  The  jest  will  bear  telling." 
Perhaps  it  occurred  to  him,  casually,  that  be 
ing  alone  had  its  compensations,  since  it  left 
him  a  free  hand  if  he  chose  to  embellish  the 
jest  in  the  telling. 

He  forbore  to  follow  up  the  joke  immedi- 
51 


OSRU 

ately.  It  prolonged  the  pleasure  to  be  got  from 
it,  to  speculate  idly  on  what  the  knave  would 
do  when  he  woke  him.  He  cursed  softly  to 
himself  that  there  was  not  so  much  as  one 
boon  companion  beside  him  with  whom  he 
could  lay  a  wager  about  it,  nor  any  way  to 
summon  one  without  waking  the  sleeping 
slave. 

Presently  he  tightened  the  cord  cautiously. 
The  man  woke  and  sprang  up,  clutching  at  his 
throat  and  gasping,  mad  with  terror  but  not 
in  the  least  understanding  his  predicament. 
Nero  threw  himself  back,  shaken  by  violent 
spasms  of  laughter.  The  creature's  antics 
were  excruciating  before  he  saw  how  things 
were  with  him,  and  if  that  were  possible,  twice 
as  funny  after.  Nero's  sides  ached. 

After  a  time  he  made  an  end  of  laughing, 
and  the  tigerish  love  of  power  in  him  woke  up. 

52 


NERO 

As  a  jest  the  thing  was  stale,  but  there  was 
still  much  sport — much  sport. 

The  laughter  died  out  of  his  eyes,  and  a 
glitter  like  that  in  the  lidless  eyes  of  a  snake 
about  to  strike  replaced  it. 

He  dragged  the  slave  toward  him. 

"On  thy  knees,  O  Gyges,"  he  thundered, 
and  Gyges,  clutching  with  both  hands  at  the 
rope  that  threatened  his  wind-pipe,  dropped  to 
his  knees  and  struggled  toward  him. 

"Nay,  on  thy  belly,  by  Jupiter!"  stormed 
Nero,  and  with  a  sudden  jerk  he  sent  him 
sprawling  on  his  face.  "I'll  teach  thee  to  sleep 
at  thy  post!  Not  another  word,  on  thy  life, 
till  I  bid  thee  speak,"  as  the  man  attempted  to 
gasp  excuses.  Half  dragged,  half  crawling, 
he  got  near  enough  to  clasp  the  Caesar's  naked 
feet  and  cover  them  with  beseeching  kisses. 

Nero  stayed  his  hand.  The  black  fire  in  his 
53 


OSRU 

eyes  burned  low.  The  situation  was  develop 
ing  beyond  its  early  promise.  The  Imperial 
One  was  smitten,  suddenly,  with  a  most  bril 
liant  fancy. 

"Perchance,"  he  said,  carelessly,  watching 
his  man  through  slitted  eyes,  "perchance  I  may 
yet  spare  thy  worthless  life.  Me-seems  thou 
dost  realize  the  greatness  of  thy  sin.  I  do 
bethink  me  of  a  fitting  deed  whereby  thou 
mayest  blot  it  out.  Dost  desire  thy  life?" 

The  man  made  inarticulate  moan,  and  redou 
bled  his  efforts  to  bathe  the  imperial  feet  with 
his  tears  and  dry  them  with  his  kisses. 

"Thou  shalt  worship  me  as  I  were  Jupiter 
himself,"  proclaimed  the  august  Emperor,  unc 
tuously,  enraptured  with  his  plan  as  the  details 
of  it  developed.  "Thou  shalt  worship  with 
whatsoever  ardor  thou  wilt,  desiring  of  me  the 
gift  of  thy  life.  And  belike,  if  thou  dost  wor 
ship  with  enough  true  fervor  to  merit  such  a 

54 


NERO 

boon,  mayhap,  I  say,  if  thou  dost  please  the 
god  that  abideth  in  me  with  thy  worship, — it 
may  be  I  shall  grant  thy  trifling  request." 

The  trembling  Gyges  prostrated  himself, 
and  never  was  Jupiter  Ammon  in  propria  per 
sona  more  fervently  worshipped.  Whenever 
his  ardor  slacked  for  a  moment  Nero  turned 
away  his  head  with  a  gesture  of  impatience, 
and  the  quivering  wretch,  prone  on  the  tessel 
lated  marble,  quivered  yet  more,  redoubling 
his  efforts  to  move  this  stony  and  indifferent 
god  to  pity.  Once  Nero  prompted,  "Dost 
know  that  prayer,  'O  Jupiter,  Invincible'  ?"  and 
Gyges  stammered  through  it,  and  then  through 
every  prayer  he  could  remember  that  in  any 
wise  fitted  his  case,  whoever  the  god  or  god 
dess,  changing  the  name  to  Jupiter,  glibly. 

At  length,  satiated,  his  Master  said,  indif 
ferently  :  "Enough !  I  give  thee  thy  life,"  and 
the  spent  Gyges  fell  motionless  on  his  face. 

55 


OSRU 

But  an  anger-sharpened :  "Hast  no  thanks  to 
offer?"  recalled  him  to  his  task,  and  Nero 
tasted  yet  another  keen  and  glorious  sensation. 
Truly,  the  day  began  richly!  To  be  a  god, 
and  to  receive  the  prayers  and  thanks  of  man, 
was  indeed  divine. 

"Have  done!"  he  murmured  at  last,  with 
feigned  languor.  "Thy  frenzy  irks  me.  Me- 
thinks  I  begin  to  understand  how  the  gods  are 
sometimes  too  worn  out  by  the  never  ending 
protestations  of  the  people  to  grant  their  pray 
ers.  Now  bathe  me,  Gyges,  and  use  that  new 
Persian  perfume  of  roses." 

Gyges,  with  his  eyes  on  Nero's  face,  es 
sayed  tentatively  to  remove  the  cord  from  his 
neck. 

"That  thou  didst  not  pray  for,"  said  Nero, 
with  childish  petulance.  "Nay,  'tis  too  late.  I 
am  wearied  with  thy  prayers.  Thou  shalt  go 
about  to  bathe  and  clothe  me  even  as  thou  art. 

56 


NERO 

I  have  spared  thy  life.  Be  content."  He  gave 
the  cord  a  playful  pull  and  Gyges  a  meaning 
glance.  "To-day,  at  least,  I  shall  be  well 
served.  If  thou  dost  thy  duties  carelessly,  O 
Gyges!"  He  laughed  loudly.  "By  Momus! 
thy  face  would  make  a  skeleton  shake  with 
mirth.  Why  doth  this  visible  cord  so  fret  thee, 
fool?  Thou  knowest" — the  words  slid  juicily 
between  his  teeth,  and  it  seemed  as  though  he 
must  have  rolled  them  as  a  savory  tidbit 
against  his  palate — "the  life  of  every  man  in 
Rome  is  in  my  hands  equally  with  thine.  A 
noose,  invisible  but  strong,  lieth  about  the  neck 
of  every  one  of  them,  and  the  end  of  it  lieth 
here — lieth  here" — he  opened  and  closed  his 
hand,  suggestively,  in  the  very  face  of  Gyges. 
"As  easily  as  I  could  tighten  this  rope  thou 
wearest  necklace  fashion — shall  I  show  thee 
how  easily? — just  so  easily  I  could  have  the 
life  of  any  slave  or  senator  in  Rome.  An  I 

57 


OSRU 

would  I  could  choose  at  random — say  the  hun 
dredth  man  who  spoke  to  me  from  this  hour 
— and  by  Jupiter  whom  I  represent  on  earth, 
ere  the  sun  set  twice,  I  could  find  the  pretext 
to  slay.  Yea!  though  he  were  the  greatest  in 
the  Empire  after  me.  Now  by  all  the  gods! 
I  will  yet  do  that  very  thing !  'Twere  a  timely 
jest  wherewith  to  entertain  some  favored 
legate." 

Gyges,  almost  forgetting  to  tremble  now 
that  the  imperial  attention  was  diverted  from 
him,  laved  his  body  with  the  costly  perfume. 

"Ah-h !"  breathed  Nero  ecstatically,  inhaling 
the  delicious  odor  with  closed  eyes,  "see  thou 
command  to  be  bought  a  goodly  store  of  this 
fragrance  of  the  Olympians.  I,  also,  am  one 
of  them." 

He  opened  his  eyes  sharply,  as  he  realized 
that  for  a  full  minute  he  had  forgotten  his  god- 
ship,  and  shot  a  scrutinizing  glance  at  Gyges, 

58 


NERO 

to  see  if  he  had  dared  to  forget  it  also.  He 
scowled  as  he  noted  that  Gyges  had  ceased  to 
tremble. 

Thereafter,  the  Imperial  One  fell  silent  for 
the  space  of  time  it  took  to  bathe  his  right  arm. 
Then  he  began  smoothly: 

"How  long  hast  thou  served  me,  Gyges?" 

The  man  looked  up. 

"Since  eighty  days,  Imperial  One,"  he  an 
swered,  after  a  rapid  calculation. 

"Ah !"  The  Imperial  One  narrowed  his  eyes 
to  twain  wicked  slits.  As  Gyges  met  their 
glance  his  trembling  returned  to  an  extent  that 
wholly  satisfied  the  great  Caesar.  But  at  the 
same  time  it  whetted  his  appetite. 

"Thy  predecessor  pleased  me — but  for  some 
forty-three.  I  sent  him  to  the  galleys."  Which 
was  true  as  to  the  galleys,  but  a  lie  as  to  the 
time. 

"And  the  slave  who  bathed  me  before  him 

59 


NERO 

— let  me  think — I  believe  'twas  but  a  paltry 
twenty  I  endured  him.  One  morning  he  spilled 
perfume  in  my  eyes.  'Twas  a  double  sin,  for 
the  stuff  was  costly.  He  still  lies  in  prison. 
I  had  not  remembered  the  vermin  again  but 
for  thee.  Let  him  rot !  But  he  was  a  clumsy 
beast,  while  thy  hands,  O  Gyges,  are  like 
down !  Of  a  truth,  thou  art  a  wonder,  Gyges ! 
Eighty  days !  Some  god  protects  thee,  Gyges !" 

The  evil  little  eyes  of  the  august  Emperor 
opened  wide  in  mocking  surprise.  They 
feasted  on  the  shaken  wretch  who  was  trying 
to  steady  the  hands  that  were  like  down  lest 
they  lose  their  cunning. 

Really  sated  at  last  by  the  sight  of  the  mis 
erable  creature's  deadly  fear,  the  mood  of  the 
Emperor  changed. 

"The  gods  give  joy  when  they  will,"  he  rea 
soned.  "Not  often  to  such  as  he,  but  yet  they 
give  it.  I  will  cause  him  to  rejoice  also.  Then 

60 


OSRU 

shall  I  have  played  the  god  to  the  full  this 
day."  And  pleased  with  this  new  conceit  of 
his  fertile  brain,  he  promptly  carried  it  out. 

"Thou  pleasest  me  well,  O  Gyges!"  he  said 
aloud,  in  a  voice  of  honey.  "I  would  not  take 
a  king's  ransom  for  thee!" 

The  startled  slave,  mindful  of  what  had 
pleased  before,  broke  out  into  fulsome  adula 
tion  addressing  him  as  Jupiter  till  Nero  simu 
lating  ennui  stopped  him. 

"Enough!  Thou  delightest  to  serve  me? 
Thou  shalt  serve  me  better  than  by  declaiming 
idle  words,  or  even  than  by  rubbing  perfumes 
on  my  chest  with  thy  hands  of  down.  Dost 
remember  that  Christian  maiden  thou  didst  get 
for  me  some  time  agone?  By  that  god  of  all 
thieving,  Mercury,  I  never  did  suitably  reward 
thy  theft  of  her!  What  sayest  thou?  So? 
Her  father  hath  not  ceased  to  strive  to  put  on 
thee  the  blame  of  it?  Let  him  have  care! 

61 


OSRU 

Nero  hath  torture  chambers  for  such  as  babble 
against  his  pleasures!  But  as  for  thee,  thou 
shalt  procure  me  just  such  another  delectable 
maiden.  Just  so  lovely  and  just  so  unwilling. 
By  Cupid !  I  tell  thee  I  grieved  for  three  days 
thereafter,  that  I  had  given  her  that  same 
night  to  the  guard!  'Twas  such  a  blunder  as 
Nero  never  made  before  nor  will  again,  I 
promise  thee.  But  thou  shalt  find  me  another, 
and  if  she  doth  make  me  forget  the  first  one, 
why,  as  certainly  as  Venus  hears  me  say  the 
word  I  will  set  thee  free.  Stay  now,  I  have 
a  merry  thought,  O  Gyges!  Thou  shalt  shut 
her  in  the  locked  garden,  that  she  may  think 
to  flee  me  when  I  come !"  The  imperial  laugh 
rang  out,  pealing  through  the  chamber. 
"Yea!  thou  wilt  deserve  thy  freedom,  an  thou 
procurest  me  another  such  morsel.  See  thou 
do  it." 

The  Mighty  One's  toilet  proceeded  in  silence. 
62 


NERO 

"Methinks,"  he  mused  aloud,  as  Gyges 
bound  the  fillet  on  his  hair,  "methinks  the 
populace  shouted  less  joyfully  than  their  duty 
was,  when  I  deigned  to  show  myself  to  them 
in  procession  robed  as  Jupiter,  two  days  since, 
or  is  it  three?  Insects!"  he  raged,  remember 
ing  the  occasional  insulting  silences  that  had 
fallen  on  the  throngs.  "I  would  see  my  chariot 
wheels  pass  over  any  of  them,  as  willingly  as 
I  would  bid  thee  smite  a  buzzing  fly.  Let  them 
wait !  Let  them  wait !  I  will  yet  devise  some 
way  to  teach  them  proper  reverence  for  their 
Emperor !  It  shall  yet  be  felt  by  every  man  in 
Rome,  I  am  his  Master ! 

"Haste  thee,  Gyges.    I  am  anhungered." 


Lo!  Desire  is  potent.  A  Flood  swiftly  bearing 

you  Thither. 
But,  passing  your  Goal  without  pause,  it  will 

carry  you — Whither? 


DRAVID  OF  THE  GALLEYS. 

BEING  INCARNATION  THE  -  -  THIRD  OF  THE 
Soui,  OSRU 

"Come  hither,  Caius !  See  this  fellow  here. 
By  Bacchus,  'tis  a  pity  he  is  not  with  the 
gladiators!  Why  doth  thy  Festus  waste  him 
on  a  galley?  By  all  the  gods,  'twould  make 
my  blood  tingle  to  see  him  meet  that  black  lion 
of  Abyssinia  that  slew  six  at  the  last  games! 
With  a  spike,  say,  or  the  short  broadsword. 
He  is  from  Gaul,  is  it  not  so?  I  have  seen  his 
like  in  Rome.  But  never — never — his  equal. 
"Tis  thy  trireme,  this  ?  Then  have  him  out  and 
let  us  look  at  him.  What!  chained  at  the 
waist?" 

67 


OSRU 

"Yea,  and  for  good  reason!  Thou  sayest 
well,  he  is  a  marvel.  But  'tis  plain,  O  Marcus, 
thou  hast  not  full  measure  of  thy  father's  war 
rior  blood,  or  thou  wouldst  not  make  lion-meat 
of  such  as  he !  He  is  the  glory  of  my  trireme. 
Because  of  him  and  the  stroke  he  sets,  there 
is  neither  trireme  nor  bireme  in  all  the  fleets 
of  Rome  can  make  shift  to  pass  us.  His  mus 
cles  are  ductile  adamant,  lightning  for  speed 
and  one  with  the  everlasting  hills  for  endur 
ance.  And  yet  he  is  an  old  man.  Look  at  his 
hair,  my  Marcus.  Fifty  years  he  hath  seen, 
at  the  least,  and  for  thirty  of  these  he  hath 
been  an  ornament  to  the  galleys.  'Tis  with 
out  doubt  he  was  peerless  in  his  prime.  But 
his  strength  waneth  not,  methinks.  Of  a  truth, 
to  bend  mightily  at  the  oars  doth  exercise  the 
whole  body  to  increasing  vigor/' 

"But  why  hast  thou  chained  him  with  the 
chain  I  had  thought  was  worn  by  the  galleys 

68 


DRAVID 

but  when  in  battle,  lest  they  think  to  spring 
overboard  and  join  the  enemy,  O  Caius?" 

"Because  he  hath  a  devil.  Many  devils.  See 
him  eye  the  knife  in  thy  belt !  He  hath  a  mad 
ness  for  liberty.  Three  men  hath  he  killed 
and  yet,  because  he  is  such  an  oarsman  as  the 
galleys  hold  but  once  in  an  hundred  years,  his 
life  hath  been  spared. 

"Once  he  eyed  the  knife  that  Miletus  the 
centurion  wore,  as  he  eyed  thine  but  now. 
And  then  he  sprang  on  him  and  seized  it  and 
ran  swiftly,  and  he  had  wounded  three  men  to 
their  death  ere  they  secured  him.  I  know  not 
whither  he  thought  to  flee.  'Twas  impossible 
that  he  escape.  He  hath,  as  I  said  to  thee 
before,  O  Marcus,  a  madness  for  liberty  that 
stirreth  him  to  wild  deeds.  For  what  he  did 
that  day  he  should  have  been  given  to  the 
lions,  and  there  were  many  who  were  urgent, 
even  as  thou  wouldst  have  been,  that  he  should 

69 


OSRU 

crown  the  next  games  with  his  mighty  death- 
struggles.  But  Festus  is  a  soldier  before  all 
else.  He  decreed  that  the  life  of  Dravid 
should  be  spared,  because  of  his  usefulness  to 
the  State,  but  that  he  should  wear  the  battle 
cestus  from  that  hour.  In  truth,  no  man's  life 
would  be  safe  in  my  trireme  if  he  did  not.  He 
hath  an  ugly  temper,  and  that  madness  for  lib 
erty  which  possesseth  him  at  all  times  maketh 
him  fearless  of  death.  He  would  do,  only  Jupi 
ter  knoweth  what  of  violence,  if  he  had  such 
freedom  to  move  as  these  others." 

"Now  by  the  great  god  Pan!  What  thou 
sayest  exciteth  me,  Caius.  I  would  give  a 
thousand  sesterces  to  see  him  fight." 

"Thou  wert  born  a  matter  of  twenty  years 
too  late,  my  Marcus.  Dravid  hath  fought  in 
the  arena,  and  the  sight  was  worth  thy  thou 
sand  sesterces  and  more.  It  happened  in  this 
wise.  He  himself  got  wind  of  the  fierce  desire 

70 


DRAVID 

of  many  to  see  him  act  the  gladiator,  and  after 
a  time  he  besought  Festus  without  ceasing  to 
suffer  him  to  meet  any  beast  they  should  choose 
in  single  combat,  and  to  give  him  his  liberty 
if  he  slew  it.  The  youth  of  the  city  heard  of 
his  petition,  and  went  wild,  even  as  thou 
wouldst  have  done,  O  Marcus,  for  a  sight  of 
his  prowess.  So  both  Dravid  and  the  young 
men  who  longed  to  wager  their  money  on  him 
continually  besought  Festus  with  such  impor 
tunity  that  he  was  fain  to  satisfy  them  all.  So 
he  devised  a  clever  trick,  whereby  the  games 
were  graced  by  the  feats  of  this  wonderful 
Gaul  and  yet  the  pride  of  the  galleys  was  not 
taken  from  us.  He  granted  the  petition  of 
Dravid.  If  he  slew  the  beast  single-handed 
he  was  to  be  free.  But  Festus  cunningly  sta 
tioned  another  where  he  could  rush  out  and 
give,  or  feign  to  give,  the  final  thrust.  So  that 
Dravid  not  having  won  single-handed,  Festus 


OSRU 

would  be  guiltless  in  sending  him  back  to  the 
galleys !  Also,  if  Dravid  was  too  hard  pressed 
the  other  gladiator  was  to  come  to  his  assist 
ance.  So  in  any  case  our  mighty  Gaul,  our 
treasure,  was  to  be  saved  to  us." 

"By  Bacchus !  I  could  weep,  Caius,  to  think 
I  was  not  here!" 

"Thou  wert  not  long  done  sucking  pap,  my 
Marcus.  The  games  were  not  for  such  as  thou 
wert  then.  And  yet,  I  think  we  err  in  that  the 
children  are  no  longer  brought  so  young  to  the 
arena." 

"Torment  me  not,  Caius.  Tell  me  quickly 
what  befell  this  Dravid." 

"Oh,  a  splendid  beast  of  Bengal — 'twas  said, 
a  man-eater  that  had  slain  his  hundreds  in  his 
own  jungles — was  the  choice  of  Festus.  The 
people  when  they  heard  it  went  wild  with  joy, 
to  think  of  the  magnificent  Dravid  pitted 
against  that  more  than  magnificent  beast  who 

72 


DRAVID 

had  already  slain  many  since  he  was  brought 
hither.  But  Festus  had  the  Gaul  well  weap- 
oned.  He  greatly  desired  that  whether  he 
should  kill  the  tiger  or  not,  he  should  come 
through  without  a  scratch  and  return  that 
same  day  to  the  trireme." 

"Hasten,  Caius!  Tell  me  of  the  struggle. 
Didst  see  it?" 

"Thou  art  an  unreasoning  youth !  How  can 
I  tell  thee  faster?  Did  I  see  it?  Yea,  that  I 
did !  It  all  fell  as  Festus  had  devised.  Dravid 
and  that  Bengalese  brute  made  the  most  glor 
ious  picture  mine  eye  hath  ever  beheld  in  the 
arena.  And  he  slew  the  beast,  Marcus!  He 
slew  him  without  help.  There  was  not  a  soul 
in  the  whole  ampitheatre  who  did  not  know  it 
was  Dravid's  thrust  that  finished  him,  and  not 
the  blow  of  the  suborned  gladiator  who  rushed 
up  just  in  time  to  stick  his  knife  to  the  hilt 
into  the  brute  before  he  fell. 

73 


OSRU 

"So  Dravid  came  back  to  the  galleys.  The 
very  spirit  of  the  tiger  seemed  to  have  gone 
into  him.  He  knew  well  enough  that  Festus 
had  duped  him,  and  he  looked  like  a  crouching 
lion  as  he  sat  in  a  heap  when  the  oars  were 
silent  brooding  over  it.  Then  he  suddenly 
made  the  same  petition  to  Festus  again — canst 
believe?" 

"I  groan  to  think  he  doth  not  make  it  again, 
this  very  hour!" 

"Festus  knew  not  what  to  think,  but  at  the 
mere  whisper  of  seeing  Dravid  again  there 
was  such  enthusiasm  among  the  citizens  that 
he  consented. 

"This  time  they  chose  a  lion,  every  whit  the 
equal  of  that  black  beast  thou  didst  so  admire 
— and  Dravid  performed  the  impossible  with 
him.  'Twas  a  goodly  sight.  I  would  thou 
hadst  seen  it,  Marcus." 

74 


DRAVID 

"Remind  me  not  of  my  loss!  But  tell  me 
more  fully  of  the  fight." 

"Nay,  I  cannot.    'Tis  twenty  years  since. 

"As  before,  the  man  Festus  had  appointed 
rushed  out  and  thrust  his  sword  into  the  stag 
gering  beast.  But  what  think  you?  Dravid 
turned  on  him  and  made  the  man  do  battle  for 
his  life.  Oh,  then  the  people  rose  to  him! 
For  'twas  known  to  all  what  Festus  had  in 
tended.  Now  by  the  beneficence  of  Jupiter, 
the  gladiator  who  had  been  appointed  to  feign 
help  to  Dravid  was  of  a  noble  build,  and  never 
has  my  blood  so  tingled  in  my  veins  as  when 
they  clenched.  For  Festus  sent  men  quickly 
who  seized  them  from  behind,  and  two  men 
drawing  back  the  arms  of  each  of  them,  two 
others  took  the  weapons  from  them.  Which 
was  marvellous  clever  of  Festus,  for  he  desired 
not  to  stop  the  fight  and  yet  he  would  not  risk 

75 


OSRU 

that  Dravid  should  be  wounded.  So  the  two 
fought  in  the  Gaulish  manner,  with  naked 
hands.  And  Dravid  strangled  his  man!" 

"Ah,  Jupiter!"  sighed  Marcus,  softly. 

"Then  he  turned  in  a  flash  to  the  people,  and 
stretched  out  his  hands ;  and  all  took  his  mean 
ing.  Oh,  the  tumult  that  rose!  Some  were 
for  keeping  him — I  think  they  were  secretly 
reckoning  that  if  he  returned  to  the  galleys 
they  might  see  him  yet  again — but  most  were 
for  letting  him  go.  My  trireme  all  but  lost  its 
crowning  star.  But  Festus  stood  firm.  He 
sent  men  to  lead  him  away  without  seeming 
violence,  and  caused  to  be  circulated  the  report 
that  Dravid  was  but  kept  to  show  his  skill  once 
more  in  the  arena,  and  that  quieted  the  people. 

"But  this  time  they  reckoned  without  Dra 
vid.  He  could  never  be  persuaded  to  fight 
again.  He  sitteth  ever  as  thou  seest  him  now, 
with  the  look  in  his  eyes  of  one  who  bideth  his 

76 


DRAVID 

time.  He  looketh  in  vain.  The  liberty  he 
craveth  will  be  his  only  from  the  hand  of 
Death." 

"By  Pluto!    Thou  dost  touch  my  pity  con 
cerning  this  Gaul,  Caius.    Festus  should  have    - 
freed  him  at  the  demand  of  the  people." 

"Festus  is  too  good  a  soldier.  Look  at  his 
massive  arms!" 

"Whence  came  he?" 

"I  know  not.  From  some  wild  tribe  where 
he  was  bred  up  in  the  freedom  he  dreameth 
of  night  and  day.  It  may  be,  a  chiefs  son. 
He  was  taken  in  battle." 

"Bethink  you,  Caius!  What  memories  of 
his  youth  of  wild  freedom  must  be  his  as  he 
sitteth  in  his  chains!" 

"I  have  ere  now  conceived  that  the  pent-up, 
savage  longing  in  his  heart  for  the  mountains 
of  his  birth  doth  breed  the  mighty  strokes  that 
are  my  joy.  But  come,  thou  shalt  see  for  thy- 

77 


OSRU 

self.  There  is  time,  ere  we  seek  the  feast 
Glaucus  spreadeth  to-night  in  honor  of  thine 
illustrious  father's  son,  to  take  thee  to  yon 
headland  and  return.  Thou  shalt  see  the  swift 
est  oars  Rome  boasteth,  my  Marcus.  Sit  here, 
where  thou  canst  mark  the  muscles  of  his 
mighty  back." 


Lo !  Desire  is  potent.    But  pray  that  it  prove 

not  a  Fire 
That  shall  turn,  in  the  end,  and  enshroud  you, 

and  fashion  your  Pyre. 


CHUNDA,  WIFE  OF  RAM  RUOY. 

BEING  INCARNATION  THE  -  -  FOURTH  OF  THE 
SOUL  OSRU 

Ram  Ruoy  was  old,  very  old.  Also  he  was 
rich,  very  rich.  By  an  unfortunate  combina 
tion  of  circumstances — notably  the  plague — 
Ram  Ruoy's  wives  were  all  dead.  But  a  rich 
old  Brahmin  could  not  cold-bloodedly  be  left 
without  a  wife  to  perform  suttee  for  him  when 
his  time  came  to  depart,  thereby  acquiring  for 
him  much  salvation  and  a  happy  reincarnation 
when  he  should  next  be  reborn.  There  is  noth 
ing  new  to  the  Hindoo  in  the  idea  of  vicarious 
atonement. 

So  they  made  haste  and  sold  to  him  Chunda, 
81 


OSRU 

daughter  of  Dasura  Mitra.  There  was  much 
pomp  and  ceremony  of  marriage  connected 
with  the  bargain,  and  large  presents  passed 
from  Ram  Ruoy  to  Mitra;  wherefore  the  lat 
ter  rejoiced  greatly  that  his  final  decision 
eleven  years  before  on  the  day  of  Chunda's 
birth  had  been  to  allow  her  to  live.  His  dis 
appointment  then  that  she  had  not  been  a  boy 
was  bitter,  and  he  was  more  than  half  decided 
during  some  hours  to  throw  her  into  the  Sacred 
River,  with  suitable  prayers  that  the  proper 
deity  might  feel  duly  propitiated  and  send  a 
son.  However  the  final  decision  had  been  to 
keep  her,  and  now,  behold!  Five  hundred 
rupees  was  the  reward  of  his  self-sacrifice. 
Truly  Mitra  had  no  cause  to  repent  of  the  trou 
ble  he  had  put  himself  to,  to  raise  her. 

Chunda  was  well  grown  and  pretty,  and  her 
husband  was  rich,  very  rich,  and  indulgent. 
Almost,  the  women  who  saw  her  jewels  and 

82 


CHUNDA 

silks  felt  envy.  But  not  quite,  for  Ram  Ruoy 
would  lie  on  his  funeral  pyre  before  long ;  next 
moon,  perhaps,  or  three  moons  hence,  or  ten; 
and  Chunda  would  lie  beside  him.  No,  no  one 
quite  envied  Chunda. 

Perhaps  instead,  they  spitefully  rejoiced  that 
her  day  to  queen  it  would  be  short,  and  that 
they  would  be  wearing  their  less  costly  neck 
laces  and  anklets  after  the  smoke  had  risen 
that  would  make  her  forever  indifferent  to 
such  gauds. 

For  there  could  be  no  glamour  of  doubt 
about  Chunda's  future.  It  was  that  certainty 
which  had  made  necessary  the  costly  gifts  of 
Ram  Ruoy  to  Dasura  Mitra,  who  would  have 
had  to  part  with  a  goodly  marriage  portion  to 
have  wedded  Chunda  to  a  boy  of  eighteen. 
Dasura  Mitra  had  taken  advantage  to  the  full 
of  the  dire  necessity  of  Ram  Ruoy,  and  had 
driven  a  hard  bargain.  It  is  one  thing  to 

83 


OSRU 

marry  off  a  daughter  knowing  that  it  may, 
perchance,  become  her  duty  to  perform  suttee, 
for  there  were,  even  at  that  period,  widows  in 
India.  The  custom  of  burning  them  all  had 
already  passed  in  that  section.  But  it  was 
quite  another  matter,  argued  Mitra,  to  marry 
her  to  do  certain  suttee  for  an  old  and  other 
wise  wifeless  man.  And  the  price  should  be 
high.  Only  the  malignity  of  the  Gods,  claimed 
Mitra,  could  have  brought  a  man  of  Ram 
Ruoy's  rank  to  such  a  pass  that  he  had  not  a 
single  wife  left  to  comfort  his  soul  on  the  Per 
ilous  Passage.  What  were  five  hundred  rupees 
to  a  man  like  Ram  Ruoy,  when  they  went  to 
purchase  the  boon  of  a  wife  to  survive  him? 
And  indeed  Ram  Ruoy,  when  the  plague  had 
done  its  work  and  yet  providentially  spared 
him,  did  not  haggle  long  over  the  price  before 
he  took  to  himself  this  young  thing,  Chunda, 
and  breathed  freely  again  when  he  thought  of 


CHUNDA 

the  future  beyond  the  grave.  Also,  from  a 
merely  carnal  point  of  view,  this  fresh,  young, 
new  wife  pleased  him.  For  he  was  old,  very 
old,  and  jaded. 

But  there  was  nothing  to  please  Chunda,  ex 
cept  the  anklets.  She  sometimes  forgot  the 
other  things,  when  there  were  plenty  of  women 
about  wondering  at  and  desiring  them.  They 
were  marvellously  inlaid  with  gold,  and  at  a 
little  distance  looked  the  all  gold  anklets  that 
only  a  princess  may  wear.  Some,  not  many, 
could  match  her  other  jewels,  but  as  to  anklets 
she  stood  alone. 

In  this  other  matter,  alas,  she  stood  alone 
also.  To  any  wife  in  all  Hindoostan  the  lot 
might  fall  to  do  suttee,  just  as  any  soldier  may 
die  in  battle.  That  was  bearable.  But  the  cer 
tainty,  the  speedy  certainty,  who  could  look  it 
in  the  face  and  not  quail?  Chunda  trembled 
daily,  nay,  hourly.  And  the  health  and  com- 

85 


OSRU 

fort  of  Ram  Ruoy  possessed  her  thoughts  in 
the  silent  night  watches.  To  keep  the  breath 
in  that  senile  bunch  of  bones,  ah,  only  to  keep 
it  there!  She  pushed  Death  from  him  with 
her  strong  young  hands  and  made  of  herself 
a  willing  mat,  lest  the  damp  of  the  earth  should 
reach  his  feet  and  work  him  harm. 

"Delight  of  my  eyes,"  said  Ram  Ruoy,  after 
some  six  months  of  wedded  bliss  with  the  wife 
of  his  second  childhood,  "the  Gods  meant  me 
no  ill,  as  I  thought  in  my  first  grief,  when  they 
took  the  six  wives  they  had  left  me  in  the  space 
of  four  suns.  They  did  but  plan  to  give  me 
thee,  that  thou  mightest  cheer  and  delight  my 
failing  strength.  Yea,  and  even  hold  Death 
from  me,  thou  treasure !  Blessed  be  the  Gods !" 

Chunda  trembled. 

Sometimes,  in  anger,  Ram  Ruoy  reminded 
her  of  the  fate  stored  up  for  her. 

86 


CHUNDA 

"Wouldst  ruin  me  with  thine  itch  for  jew 
els?  It  is  well  the  Gods  have  taken  my  other 
wives.  A  rajah  could  not  buy  trinkets  enough 
to  satisfy  two  such  as  thou.  Thou  wast  an 
evil-liver  when  last  on  earth,  without  a  doubt. 
Perchance  thou  didst  ruin  thy  husband  with 
thine  extravagance,  as  thou  dost  all  but  ruin 
me,  and  'tis  in  penance  for  that  that  thou  art 
now  set  apart  to  burn!" 

And  Chunda  trembled,  and  forgot  the  arm 
let  she  had  been  cajoling  him  to  buy. 

Others  beside  her  husband  reminded  her 
freely  of  the  future.  There  was  Agra,  the 
ugly-tempered  wife  of  Ram  Ruoy's  oldest  son, 
who  ruled  the  women  and  the  household. 

"Thou  little  devil !"  she  would  say,  when  no 
one  else  could  hear.  "Glad  will  I  be  to  see 
thee  burn!  Pray  Kali  it  be  not  long  that  I 
wait  that  much-to-be-desired  sight !" 

87 


OSRU 

And  then  she  would  laugh  and  chuckle  a 
long  time,  as  she  saw  how  sorely  Chunda  trem 
bled. 

There  was  much  that  made  life  a  doubtful 
blessing  to  Chunda,  but  still  she  clung  to  it. 
During  her  hone)Tnoon,  which  had  been  a 
moon  of  myrrh  and  bitterness,  she  had,  indeed, 
wished  herself  dead,  but  even  while  she  longed 
for  death,  every  fibre  of  her  healthy  body 
shrank  from  the  death  that  waited  for  her, 
like  a  karait  in  the  grass. 

It  availed  nothing  to  outshine  the  wives  of 
poorer  and  younger  men,  because  they,  spite 
ful  and  devoid  of  compunction,  were  quick  at 
reminding  her  to  tremble. 

"Thou'rt  right  to  go  in  broidered  silks,  and 
deck  thine  ears  with  rubies,"  said  Satartha, 
wife  of  Paryanya,  with  oily  tongue.  "Poor 
child !  Thou  hast  every  right  to  make  thy  life 
a  merry  one !" 


CHUNDA 

And  Chunda  trembled. 

"Beseech  Krishna  for  a  son,"  counseled 
Arthvan,  her  mother.  "If  thou  dost  bear  him 
a  son,  then  while  he  is  yet  little,  thou  canst 
implore  Ram  Ruoy,  and  he  will  take  another 
wife,  lest,  perchance,  the  manling  suffer  from 
thy  loss.  Of  a  surety,  when  thou  wert  last 
earth-born  thou  didst  some  grievous  wrong, 
that  the  angry  Gods  should  have  marked  thee 
out  for  this  long  torment  of  fear." 

But  Chunda  was  a  barren  woman.  Not  even 
a  useless  woman-babe  came  to  mock  her.  Ram 
Ruoy  was  old,  very  old,  and  she  invoked  the 
intervention  of  Krishna  in  vain.  One  by  one 
she  went  to  every  shrine  she  could  persuade 
her  husband  to  let  her  visit. 

After  these  pilgrimages  there  was  always 
the  sick  fear,  as  she  drew  near  home,  lest  they 
sat  within  and  waited  her  coming  that  they 
might  shave  her  head.  Many  nights  she  woke 


OSRU 

and  felt  of  her  hair  with  terrified  haste.  Some 
times  she  dreamed  that  she  put  up  her  hand 
and  her  beautiful  silky  hair  was  not — sign  of 
the  near  approach  of  her  ordeal. 

The  very  worst  of  all  was  to  watch  the 
funeral  pyres  of  other  men,  men  invariably 
younger  than  her  husband.  They  could  not,  in 
fact,  well  be  older.  Sometimes  the  widows 
who  burned  with  them  were  younger  than  she, 
but  that  counted  for  little.  They  had  been 
happy  wives  until — she  counted  the  days  that 
each  had  known  that  the  death  of  her  lord  was 
certain. 

They  had  not  been  bought  for  this.  Some 
times  she  knew  they  loved  their  husbands  and 
gladly  paid  the  price  that  secured  to  them  fu 
ture  happiness.  There  was  Misra,  now.  Her 
beloved  had  been  young  and  strong  and  beau 
tiful,  until  the  night  he  had  drowsily  sought  to 
free  himself  from  the  weight  of  the  cobra  that 

90 


CHUNDA 

had  coiled  on  his  smooth,  bare  breast.  Never 
had  the  thought  come  to  Misra  that  she  was  to 
burn  beside  him  in  her  one  and  twentieth  year. 
Chunda  felt  that  she  could  have  borne  to  be 
Misra. 

"Desire  of  my  heart,"  said  Ram  Ruoy  with 
clumsy  playfulness,  as  they  returned  from  wit 
nessing  her  suttee,  "see  thou  tend  me  softly 
that  the  day  when  thou  shalt  follow  Misra,  and 
climb  the  steps  to  me,  be  kept  far  from  us." 

And  Chunda  trembled. 

That  night  she  woke,  screaming.  She  had 
climbed  the  steps ;  she  had  lain  down  beside  the 
corpse  of  Ram  Ruoy;  she  had  felt  the  fire. 
The  pain  of  the  burning  woke  her,  and  she  lay 
and  trembled  till  daybreak.  After  that  the 
dream  came  often.  Twice,  thrice  in  a  moon, 
she  climbed  the  steps  and  the  flames  lapped  her 
flesh. 

Still  Ram  Ruoy  did  not  die.    The  breath  was 


OSRU 

yet  in  him  and  he  doddered  about,  calling 
Chunda  his  little  Gift  of  Life  and  chuckling 
that  he  was  the  Beloved  of  the  Gods,  since 
when  he  had  thought  to  die  they  had  given  him 
a  beautiful  bride  and  ten  more  years  than  he 
had  hoped  to  enjoy. 

Chunda  was  three  and  twenty  when  they 
did  at  last  cut  off  her  beautiful  hair.  For 
twelve  full  years  Ram  Ruoy  kept  the  breath  in 
his  shrunken  frame — though  two  score  sun 
sets  seemed  more  than  he  was  like  to  see,  on 
the  day  he  made  little  Chunda  his  wife  lest  he 
fail  of  a  widow. 

That  night  she  half  woke  and  her  hand  crept 
drowsily  up  to  her  head  that  she  might  take 
comfort  in  the  feel  of  her  soft  hair.  Then  the 
air  was  torn  with  screams,  for  the  horrible 
prickliness  of  a  shorn  scalp  was  under  her 
shaking  fingers,  and  the  truth  she  had  been  too 
dazed  to  realize  before  came  home. 

92 


CHUNDA 

The  chief  priests  counseled  her.  A  widow 
must  mount  beside  her  husband  of  her  own 
free  will,  yet  it  was  an  unheard  of  thing  for  an 
only  wife  to  refuse.  They  labored  with  her, 
pointing  out  that  there  was  but  one  path  ap 
pointed  for  her  by  the  gods.  They  made  her 
drunk  with  soma  and  wrought  upon  her  over 
strung  nerves  till  they  wrung  from  her  a  loath 
consent.  Then  they  sent  her  home. 

That  night  the  dream  came  again  and  she 
woke,  raving.  But  no  one,  though  she  threw 
herself  on  her  face  before  each,  turned  a  lis 
tening  ear  to  her  refusal  to  lie  beside  Ram 
Ruoy.  To  the  high  priest  she  had  given  con 
sent.  Therefore  she  could  be  bound  and 
dragged  there.  They  told  her  so. 

They  drugged  her  at  last,  because  she  con 
tinued  to  fill  the  house  with  her  shrieks  and 
disturb  their  slumbers.  But  they  could  not 
risk  killing  her — that  would  not  acquire  merit 

93 


OSRU 

for  Ram  Ruoy — and  the  biggest  dose  they 
dared  give  only  partly  quieted  her.  Sometimes 
she  lay  in  a  waking  dream,  living  over  the 
coming  hour.  Sometimes  she  shrieked  without 
ceasing  and  sometimes  she  raved  that  she 
cared  nought  for  the  future  happiness  of  Ram 
Ruoy  and  would  not  go. 

She  struck  at  Chitiji,  the  high  priest;  but 
what  punishment  is  commanded  for  a  widow 
about  to  immolate  herself  for  the  repose  of  her 
husband's  soul? 

To  Agra  she  screamed: 

"Thou  shalt  return  to  earth  and  burn  a 
widow,  because  thou  art  glad  I  go  to  the  bier  of 
Ram  Ruoy.  All — all  of  you — "  the  sweep  of 
her  arm  included  the  priests,  "shall  suffer  be 
cause  of  this.  It  may  be  that  for  the  sins  of  a 
former  birth  this  thing  has  come  upon  me,  but 
in  your  future  lives  it  shall  be  counted  to  you 
as  sin  that  ye  force  me  against  my  will  to  climb 

94 


CHUNDA 

the  steps  to  Ram  Ruoy.  Yea,  it  shall  be 
counted  to  you  as  sin !"  She  threw  herself  back 
in  a  convulsion.  A  very  little  more  and  Ram 
Ruoy  might  have  been  cheated  of  his  rights. 

Freshly  stupefied  with  drugs  she  climbed  the 
steps,  supported  and  held  close  prisoner  by  two 
of  her  husband's  sons.  But  at  sight  of  Ram 
Ruoy's  sheeted  figure  she  broke  from  them  and 
fled,  and  fought  them  with  the  strength  of 
madness  as  they  dragged  her  back. 

The  women  looked  on  with  horror  at  the 
shame  she  put  upon  their  sex  and  called  out  to 
the  sons  of  Ram  Ruoy  to  bind  her  with  cords, 
lest  the  worthless  one  rob  Ram  Ruoy  of  his 
sacred  dues. 

The  flames  lapped  her  flesh,  as  they  had  in 
her  dreams,  but  she  could  not  wake. 


95 


Lo!  Desire  is  potent.  But  Justice  abides,  over 
ruling. 

And  Desire,  being  spent,  bends  the  neck  to 
her  rod  and  her  schooling. 


LOVIS,  SIEUR  LE  BRENT. 

BEING  INCARNATION  THE  -  -  FIFTH  OF  THE 
Soui,  OSRU 

To  be  thrust  into  a  dungeon  was  no  figure 
of  speech  in  the  days  when  the  Norman  barons 
were  building  up  their  power,  cementing  it 
securely  with  violence.  They  took  you  by  the 
shoulders  in  those  times  and  thrust  you  bru 
tally  into  the  darkness,  so  that  you  stumbled 
forward  drunkenly,  and  except  the  cell  was 
narrow  and  you  brought  up  against  the  oppo 
site  wall  suddenly,  you  lost  your  balance  and 
came  to  earth  sprawling  on  your  face.  And 
as  you  lay  there  partly  stunned,  you  heard  the 
great  key  creak  and  the  receding  footsteps  of 

99 


OSRU 

the  gaoler  as  he  went  back  to  the  light  of 
heaven  and  the  sight  of  the  blue  sky. 

'Twas  a  fearsome  thing  to  offend  one  of 
those  lawless  autocrats  of  Normandy,  with 
none  to  question  his  decrees  or  bring  him  to 
book  for  injustice.  Men  went  into  his  ample 
prisons  striplings  and  came  out,  feet  foremost, 
cadaverous  gray-beards;  having  been  forgot 
ten  while  my  lord  pursued  his  enemies  and 
equally  forgotten  while  he  pursued  his  pleas 
ures. 

Lovis,  Sieur  le  Brent,  picked  himself  up  and 
strode  around  close  to  the  walls  of  the  foul, 
damp  place  into  which  he  had  just  been  thrust, 
like  one  demented.  He  made  the  circuit  some 
hundred  times  perhaps,  before  thought  came 
back  to  him.  For  the  mixture  of  daze  and  fear 
and  mad  desire  to  take  some  one  by  the  throat 
that  filled  him  when  he  first  found  himself  in 
the  dungeon  of  the  man  he  served  with  his 

TOO 


LOVIS  SIEUR  LE  BRENT 

sword,  was  a  far  cry  from  thinking.  But  in 
time  his  brain  cleared,  and  while  his  body  con 
tinued  to  sweep  on  with  the  tireless  strides  of 
a  coursing  hound  his  brain  began  to  race  still 
more  swiftly,  seeking  out  the  chances  of  speedy 
release. 

"Now  God  be  thanked  that  I  have  no  store 
of  land  or  gold.  When  did  I  think  to  be  glad 
that  I  had  nought  in  the  world  beyond  my 
sword  ?  'Twould  be  with  me  even  as  with  poor 
Gibert  de  Rohan,  God  rest  him  in  Heaven, 
and  'twas  for  less  than  mine  offense  that  he 
was  first  thrust — perchance  into  this  very 
hole." 

Lovis  le  Brent's  blood  chilled  at  the  fancy 
that  the  luckless  Sieur  de  Rohan  might  have 
spent  his  brief  imprisonment  restlessly  meas 
uring  these  very  walls,  even  as  he  was  now 
measuring  them.  It  weighed  on  him  heavily 
as  an  evil  omen  that  almost  his  first  coherent 

101 


OSRU 

thought  in  this  place  had  been  of  de  Rohan. 

"But  de  Rohan  had  estates  which  would 
tempt  a  king's  anger  to  wax  instead  of  waning 
with  time,  as  is  nature.  He  had  never  a  chance, 
once  he  gave  de  Breouille  cause  to  seize  him." 

This  same  de  Breouille,  who  had  been 
tempted  beyond  his  power  to  resist  by  de  Ro 
han's  wealth,  (albeit  he  imprisoned  him  in 
anger  and  without  any  ulterior  idea  of  con 
fiscating  his  worldly  goods),  was  now  the  ac 
tive  and  at  present  triumphing  enemy  of  le 
Brent. 

"My  chances  are  good,  so  help  me  God,"  said 
le  Brent.  He  put  away  from  him  resolutely 
the  thought  of  the  life-long  prisoners  in  that 
very  set  of  dungeons.  Prisoners  whose  his 
tories  he  had  known,  whose  histories  every  one 
knew,  but  in  whose  behalf  no  one  lifted  a  fin 
ger  lest  they  should  suddenly  depart  from  the 
haunts  of  their  fellows  and  join  them.  Instead 

IO2 


LOVIS  SIEUR  LE  BRENT 

he  thought  over  the  stories  of  every  prisoner 
of  de  Breouille's  who  had  been  released  or  had 
escaped.  The  list  was  long  enough  to  be  en 
couraging. 

"If  all  else  fail,  there  are  ofttimes  gaolers — 
I  must  study  these  varlets  here — "  Prison 
had  not  yet  changed  the  Sieur's  attitude  to 
ward  the  common  herd. 

"But  after  all's  said,  my  best  chance  is  that 
de  Breouille's  whim  against  me  will  die  out, 
mayhap  in  a  few  days.  If  the  damsel  for 
whose  sweet  sake  I  am  here  would  but  bestir 
herself  in  my  behalf — yea,  if  she  should  grant 
de  Breouille  his  uttermost  desire,  and  but  de 
mand  in  return  banishment  for  me, — I  ask  no 
more  than  banishment, — how  gladly  would  I 
give  her  up!  For  I  must  give  her  up,  in  all 
case,  if  so  be  he  keep  me  here. 

"There  is  much  to  be  tried.  By  God's  help, 
I  shall  not  miss  the  sight  of  many  suns — " 

103 


OSRU 

******* 

Ten  years. 

Lovis  le  Brent  beat  his  head  against  the 
wall.  Another  will-o-the-wisp  hope  had  that 
day  gone.  But  there  was  still  a  chance.  Lovis 
le  Brent's  pluck  would  not  altogether  down. 
There  was  always  the  chance  that  the  Baron's 
whim  would  change.  He  had  lain  down  and 
risen  up  by  the  light  of  that  hope  for  near  four 
thousand  days.  But  to-day  it  shone  very 
dimly.  Lovis  tore  his  hair.  Despair  all  but 
possessed  him.  He  beat  his  fists  against  the 
wall.  It  was  not  possible,  at  that  moment,  to 
feel  that  the  Baron's  whim  would  change. 

The  fact  was,  his  whim  was  gone.  He  had 
merely  forgotten.  There  were  men,  prisoners 
for  fifty  years  in  that  same  castle  gaol,  put 
there  by  the  Baron's  grandfather  for  trifling 
offences  and  simply  left  there  by  his  successors. 
Le  Brent  knew  this.  Every  one  knew  it.  But 

104 


LOVIS  SIEUR  LE  BRENT 

no  one  cared.  And  every  one  knew  that  he, 
Lovis  le  Brent,  was  unjustly  detained,  deprived 
of  his  liberty,  but  no  one  cared.  He  beat  with 
his  two  hands  upon  his  breast  until  he  fell 

exhausted. 

*        *        *          *        *          *        * 

Twenty  years. 

There  was  still  one  chance. 

The  Baron  would  without  doubt  die  first, 
and  then  he  would  raise  heaven  and  earth  to 
reach  the  ear  of  his  successor.  De  Breouille 
had  to  his  credit  fifty  ill-spent  years,  le  Brent 
was  ten  years  younger.  Also,  de  Breouille  was 
always  fighting  with  his  neighbors.  He  might 
at  any  time  be  killed.  A  just  God  grant  it  soon. 
And  it  sometimes  happened,  too,  that  a  new 
Baron  set  free  the  men  who  cumbered  the  dun 
geons  he  would  presently  fill  himself. 

Lovis  threw  himself  on  the  filthy  straw  and 
lay  there  a  while  in  a  semi-stupor.  Hope  de- 

105 


OSRU 

ferred  maketh  the  heart  sick — and  the  brain 
sick,  too. 

Presently  a  frenzy  took  him  and  he  leaped 
up,  his  eyes  gleaming.  Swinging  his  arms  like 
mad  he  tore  around  the  dark  place  and  jumped 
and  leaped  and  shrieked  aloud.  No  gaoler 
came  to  quiet  him  for  no  one  heard. 

When  he  was  tired  out  he  threw  himself  on 
the  straw  again  and  slept. 

*  H=  *  *  *  *  * 

Thirty  years. 

His  hair  is  white,  but  his  body  is  still  rugged. 
His  mad  orgies  of  violent  rage  have  served  as 
exercise  and  kept  him  strong. 

There  is  a  new  hope. 

The  Baron  is  at  war  with  a  mightier  Baron. 
If  he  loses — God  send  he  may — he  loses  all, 
and  the  new  Baron  will  very  surely  set  his  pris 
oners  free.  Out  of  scorn  for  his  conquered 
enemy,  he  will  certainly  do  it. 

106 


LOVIS  SIEUR  LE  BRENT 

Gaolers  are  fear-smitten  creatures  not  easy 
to  bribe  to  a  righteous  deed,  lest  their  hides 
pay  the  price,  or  lest  they  find  themselves  be 
hind  the  key  they  have  so  often  turned.  Be 
like,  also,  the  bribes  at  le  Brent's  command  are 
not  ample  enough  to  tempt  most  of  the  brother 
hood.  But  every  new  gaoler  is  always  a  new 
chance.  It  may  be  that,  some  day,  one  braver 
than  the  rest  will  wink  at  the  escape  of  a  pris 
oner  who  has  not  been  inquired  after  for  fif 
teen  years. 

*        *        *          *        *          *        * 

Forty  years. 

The  Baron  is  not  dead.  Not  he,  but  the 
Baron  he  fought  some  ten  years  since  went 
to  the  wall. 

But  it  must  come  soon  now,  it  must  come. 
He  cannot  live  forever,  with  the  devil  waiting 
hungrily  for  his  wicked  soul. 

Lovis  le  Brent  sits  much  with  his  head  on 
107 


OSRU 

his  hands.  His  strength  is  going  for  the  old 
rages  take  hold  of  him  less  often.  But  his 
head  is  clear  and  strong.  He  has  never  ceased 

to  calculate  the  chances  left  him. 

*        *        *          *        *          *        * 

Fifty  years. 

De  Breouille  is  just  dead.  But  le  Brent's 
dungeon  has  another  occupant. 

It  fell  empty  these  two  years  since,  when 
Lovis  le  Brent  almost  beat  his  brains  out 
against  the  floor — at  last.  Although  he  did 
not  quite  beat  them  out  yet  he  addled  them 
finally,  and  shortly  thereafter  he  left  the  dun 
geon. 

For  dungeons  are  places  for  the  living,  not 
the  dead. 


108 


Lo!    Desire  is  potent.    She  twists  you  a  rope 

for  your  using. 
But  mayhap  they  will  hang  you,  ere  night,  with 

that  rope  of  your  choosing. 


DON  JOSE  DE  RODERIGUEZ. 

BEING  INCARNATION  THE  -  -  SIXTH  OF  THE 
Soui,  OSRU 

Don  Jose  de  Roderiguez  was  in  the  clutches 
of  The  Three.  The  torments  of  the  Inquisi 
tion  were  closing  in  around  him.  How  and 
why  it  had  come  to  pass  he  had  but  a  dazed 
notion.  He  fed  and  housed  two  merchants 
from  Cadiz,  who  sought  his  hospitality  on  a 
certain  eve  of  Ascension.  That  was  all.  And 
because  of  that  simple  act  of  kindness  all  this 
trouble  and  terror  had  come  upon  him.  Was 
there  no  justice  in  Heaven  ?  Was  God  Himself 
dead,  that  He  had  not  heard  his  hourly  cries 
for  help  these  two  years  past? 

in 


OSRU 

Don  Jose  de  Roderiguez  was  already  more 
than  half  crazed.  Only  a  lumpishly  unimag 
inative  creature,  with  almost  undifferentiated 
brains,  could  lie  long  in  the  dungeons  of  The 
Three  and  keep  those  brains  unclouded. 

"Christ  witnesseth !  It  might  as  easily  have 
been  any  other  man  in  the  market  place  as  my 
thrice-wretched  self,  my  father!" 

He  beat  his  breast  and  raised  to  his  lips  the 
hempen  rope  that  bound  the  robe  of  the  padre, 
stammering  out  to  his  patient  ears  for  the  hun 
dredth  time  the  story  of  his  misfortunes. 

"They  offered  me  excellent  golden  doubloons 
for  a  night's  lodging.  A  curse  on  their  money ! 
And  then  it  comes  to  light  they  are  heretics — 
God  knoweth  ,1  wotted  not  nor  dreamed  it, 
else  had  I  delivered  them  up  with  my  own 
hands — and  shortly  thereafter  I  am  haled  be 
fore  The  Three  for  the  heinous  crime  of  har 
boring  heretics;  the  rest  thou  knowest.  By 

112 


DON  JOSE  DE  RODERIGUEZ 

the  Holy  Virgin  Mary,  the  Blessed  Mother  of 
Our  Sacred  Lord,  I  am  no  heretic.  Why  will 
not  The  Three  believe?  I  have  bared  my 
thoughts  to  them  from  the  hour  of  my  birth." 

He  had  indeed.  Don  Jose  de  Roderiguez 
groaned  and  smote  his  forehead  as  he  remem 
bered  the  ordeal.  Once  only,  shortly  after  his 
arrest,  he  had  faced  The  Three.  For  five  mad 
dening  hours  he  stood  in  an  ague  of  fear  and 
answered  their  entrapping  questions — from 
whose  entangling  meshes  but  four  in  Seville 
had  ever  escaped.  This  cell  of  his  had  seemed 
a  place  of  peace  and  refuge  ever  since.  But 
at  any  moment  Their  summons  might  come. 

Don  Jose  wept  weakly.  He  was  no  longer 
the  brawling,  dare-devil  braggart  who  had 
looked  up  boldly  at  the  sun  that  beat  on  Seville 
for  some  thirty  odd  years.  It  was  many 
months  since  that  gruesome  interview,  but  he 
dreaded  the  next  so  much  that  he  would  have 

"3 


OSRU 

instantly  chosen  life-long  imprisonment,  in 
the  peace  and  comparative  plenty  and  freedom 
from  physical  pain  that  were  now  his,  rather 
than  face  The  Three  again. 

"Holy  father,  no  man  in  Seville  hath  lived 
farther  from  heresy  than  wretched  Jose  de 
Roderiguez.  I  call  all  the  saints  in  Heaven  to 
witness  how  terrible  is  the  injustice  under 
which  I  suffer.  Since  my  pious  mother  took 
me  to  mass  at  five  years  old,  till  now,  in  my 
forty-first  year,  I  have  not  wavered  in  obe 
dience  to  the  Church.  However  great  my  sins, 
God  knoweth  I  have  always  confessed  them 
and  patiently  performed  the  penances,  howso 
ever  severe.  Never  have  I  complained.  'Tis 
true  that  in  the  matter  of  the  girl  Manuela, 
whereof  I  told  thee  something  formerly,  the 
holy  father  certainly  did  fleece  me  somewhat, 
but  God  is  my  witness,  it  never  entered  into 
the  heart  of  de  Roderiguez  to  complain.  I 

114 


DON  JOSE  DE  RODERIGUEZ 

was  but  too  glad  to  appease  God  for  my 
sins " 

The  friar's  countenance  changed. 

"Thou  sayest  a  priest  of  the  Most  Blessed 
Jesus  robbed  thee?" 

The  words  rang  coldly — and  loudly.  There 
were  those  listening  behind  the  innocent  grat 
ing  high  in  the  wall  on  the  inner  side  of  the 
room.  The  holy  father  feared  lest  they  had 
missed  this  point  of  his  mumbling  penitent's 
confession. 

A  priest  may  not  repeat  outside  the  secrets 
of  the  confessional,  but  if,  by  chance,  they  are 
overheard 

De  Roderiguez  clutched  his  throat. 

"Shrive  me !  shrive  me,  father !  I  am  as  one 
drunken  with  anguish.  I  say  what  I  do  not 
mean.  Thou  wilt  not  tell  The  Three?" 

"Fear  not,  my  son.  My  lips  are  sealed. 
Thou  knowest  full  well  a  priest  tells  nothing 


OSRU 

— nothing.  He  stands  between  thee  and  thy 
God,  not  between  thee  and  man.  But  this  is 
a  grievous  thing,  son,  a  very  grievous  thing. 
In  the  eyes  of  God  thou  art  sorely  guilty.  Then 
what  matters  it  how  it  appeareth  in  the  eyes 
of  men?  Thou  saidst  thy  confessor  robbed 
thee,  and  I  trow  he  did  but  set  thee  a  fitting 
penance  for  a  deadly  sin.  If  The  Three  heard 
thee, — nay,  nay,  /  will  not  tell  them — but  if 
The  Three  did  hear  thee  utter  such  blasphemy 
against  the  Holy  Mother  Church,  methinks 
thou  wouldst  have  short  shrift !" 

"I  meant  it  not,"  moaned  de  Roderiguez.  "I 
knew  not  what  I  said.  I  am  stupid  from  sleep 
less  nights  and  wretched  days.  It  is  now  near- 
ing  two  years  that  no  one  hath  come  nigh  me, 
saving  thee."  'Twas  the  habit  of  The  Three 
to  wear  out  the  stubborn  ones,  whose  stories 
could  in  no  wise  be  shaken,  by  means  of  these 
long,  terrifying  silences.  "The  august  Three 

116 


DON  JOSE  DE  RODERIGUEZ 

have  forgotten  the  miserable  de  Roderiguez." 
"Not  so,"  said  the  friar,  significantly. 
"Thou  shalt  shortly  find  The  Three  have  had 
thee  in  remembrance  these  past  two  years. 
And  as  for  this  damning  thing  that  thou  hast 
said,  the  evil  in  men's  hearts  will  out.  Drunken 
men  speak  truth,  and  thou  wast  indeed  as  one 
drunk  and  unguarded  in  thy  speech  by  reason 
of  thy  sleepless  vigils.  But  I  will  shrive  thee, 
my  son.  Thou  shalt  lie  all  night  face  down 
ward  on  this  stone  floor,  fasting  and  without 
drink,  from  the  hour  the  gaoler  visits  thee  till 
he  come  again  with  to-morrow's  sun.  And 
thou  shalt  tell  thy  beads  without  ceasing.  And 
further,  because  thou  hast  said  a  priest  robbed 
thee — perchance  thou  hadst  best  make  volun 
tary  offering  to  the  Church  in  fitting  restitu 
tion,  seest  thou,  for  that  thou  hast  slandered 
the  Lord  thy  God  through  his  earthly  vicar.  I 
leave  to  thee  what  portion  of  thy  worldly 

117 


OSRU 

goods  thou  wilt  bestow.  The  Church  is  ever 
needy,  and  thy  sin  is  great.  And  the  Lord 
loveth  the  cheerful  gift." 

"I  will,  father,"  whispered  the  now  deeply 
terrified  cavalier. 

The  priest  withdrew,  his  task  at  last  accom 
plished.  Weekly  for  two  and  twenty  months 
he  had  been  confessing  de  Roderiguez  and 
seeking  to  gain  his  confidence,  in  the  service 
of  The  Three.  To-day,  for  the  first  time,  de 
Roderiguez  had  let  fall  a  word  that  could  be 
used  against  him.  The  evil  in  the  heart  will 
out. 

The  friar  sighed.  There  could  now  be  no 
doubt  that  the  unhappy  man  was  a  heretic  and 
a  harborer  of  heretics.  The  Blessed  Lord  had 
graciously  decreed  that  he  should  have  a 
goodly  heritage  of  land  and  gold,  which  would 
henceforth  be  held  in  trust  for  the  poor  by  the 
Holy  Church.  'Twas  indeed  needless  that  Don 

118 


DON  JOSE  DE  RODERIGUEZ 

Jose  should  present  it,  or  any  portion  thereof, 
of  his  own  free  will  as  a  sin  offering.  His  con 
viction  as  a  heretic  would  now  follow  without 
possibility  of  failure,  and  both  his  life  and  his 
estates  would  be  forfeit. 

The  friar  paused  to  sigh  again  over  the  de 
pravity  of  human  hearts.  Then  his  thoughts 
reverted  to  Don  Jose's  fortune  and  the  peni 
tential  gift  he  meant  he  should  make  to  Holy 
Mother  Church.  He  studied  long  and  ear 
nestly  on  how  he  should  move  him  to  give  up 
all.  The  friar  was  an  artistic  man  in  his  pro 
fessional  capacity.  The  Church  could  rise  in 
her  might  and  take,  but  'twere  far  more  seemly 
that  the  don  himself  should  give  in  grief  and 
penitence,  than  that  the  Church,  however 
justly,  should  seize.  Moreover,  'twere  better 
for  the  poor  wretch's  soul  that  he,  ignorant 
that  these  worldly  possessions  were  in  fact  no 
longer  his,  should  yield  them  up  in  submissive 

119 


OSRU 

penitence  and  accept  the  cross  of  poverty  for 
his  terrible  sin.  Also,  was  it  not  a  covetous 
desire  for  the  doubloons  of  the  heretics  that 
had  first  led  him  astray? 

The  friar  pondered  long  and  earnestly,  tell 
ing  his  beads  the  while.  Finally  he  drew  a 
breath  of  relief  and  satisfaction  and  went  to 
vespers.  Don  Jose  would,  without  doubt,  be 
moved  ere  long  to  make  a  princely  gift  to  the 
Church,  a  full  and  free  surrender  of  his  earthly 
all. 

But  de  Roderiguez,  though  sleepless,  did  not 
lie  in  penance  on  the  floor  of  his  cell  saying  his 
prayers  that  night.  Before  the  hour  the  holy 
father  had  set  all  thought  of  prayers  and  pen 
ance  was  wiped  from  his  mind  as  fire  wipes 
the  impression  of  the  signet  ring  from  wax. 

Toward  nightfall  de  Roderiguez  had  an 
other  guest,  who  muffled  his  face  from  the 
gaoler,  but  showed  it  when  they  were  alone 

1 20 


DON  JOSE  DE  RODERIGUEZ 

to  the  prisoner.  He  spoke  briefly,  and  his  stay 
was  short.  But  that  brief  stay  was  sufficient  to 
complete  the  work  of  The  Three  in  remodel 
ing  to  madness  the  brain  of  Jose. 

"  'Tis  twenty  years,  Jose  de  Roderiguez. 
Dost  remember  ?'* 

De  Roderiguez  remembered.  So  well  that 
he  instinctively  stood  at  bay.  Some  of  the 
brute  courage  natural  to  the  man,  that  The 
Three  had  all  but  sweated  out  of  him  with  the 
sweat  of  fear,  returned. 

"Thou  hast  had  thy  day.  Now  mine !  Thy 
greater  wealth  did  get  thee  the  wife  of  my  de 
sire.  For  fifteen  years  I  suffered  in  mind  and 
body  because  of  that.  Thy  kinsmen  were  many, 
else  had  I  slain  thee  ere  now.  But  all  ends 
well.  Thou  art  singled  out  by  The  Three. 
Know,  'twas  I  that  caused  the  report  that  the 
strangers  from  Cadiz  who  sojourned  at  thy 
house  were  heretics.  Ah!  Dios!  Long  did  I 

121 


OSRU 

wait  to  draw  thee  into  the  net  of  The  Three! 
But  Mary  the  Blessed  Virgin  at  length  heard 
my  prayers.  This  day  thou  hast  signed  the 
warrant  of  thy  death.  Spies  of  The  Three 
lurked  behind  yon  grating  and  heard  what  thou 
didst  tell  thy  priest." 

The  knees  of  Jose  de  Roderiguez  bent.  He 
caught  at  the  grating  of  the  little  window  to 
straighten  them  and  clung  there.  But  he  still 
faced  his  guest  defiantly. 

"I  have  gained  the  ear  of  one  of  The  Three, 
at  great  cost,  and  asked  for  thee  a  boon.  I 
have  asked  for  thee,  that  ere  thou  diest  thou 
shouldst  know  the  embraces  of  the  Iron 
Maiden.  He  hath  said  it.  He  will  not  fail. 
'Tis  my  estate  in  Granada  assures  to  me  this 
boon  I  have  asked  for  thee.  Think  of  me,  de 
Roderiguez,  thou  base-born  whelp  of  a  devil, 
when  the  Iron  Maiden  folds  thee  softly, 
softly." 

122 


DON  JOSE  DE  RODERIGUEZ 

De  Roderiguez  drew  himself  up  a  little 
straighter  with  the  remnant  of  his  strength, 
still  clinging  to  the  grating. 

His  guest  continued. 

"This  one  thing  more  I  asked  for  thee.  Rest 
easy  in  thy  heart.  Thou  shalt  be  spared  the 
death  of  a  heretic.  Thou  shalt  not  burn.  He 
hath  promised  it.  And  I  have  such  a  palace  in 
Granada  as  would  move  a  prince  to  keep  his 
promises.  Nay,  verily,  thou  shalt  not  burn. 
Thou  shalt  not  come  alive  from  the  arms  of 
the  Maiden.  The  day  is  even  now  set  for  thy 
bridal.  I  will  tell  thee  no  more  than  that  'tis 
that  same  Saint's  Day  whereon  thou  madest 
thine  the  bride  I  burned  for  twenty  years  ago. 
Had  Death  not  snatched  her  from  thee,  that 
would  I  now  do.  Whether  thy  nuptials  with 
the  Iron  Maid  shall  come  to  pass  within  this 
year,  thou  shalt  not  know.  The  Three  move 
slowly.  How  long  already  hast  thou  lain  here  ? 

123 


OSRU 

But  surely,  surely,  she  awaits  thee  to  be  thy 
bride.  I  would  thou  hadst  had  no  other !  Dost 
feel  her  soft  kisses  on  thine  eyes,  de  Rod- 
eriguez  ?  I  see  thou  dost !  Not  once,  but  many 
times  she  shall  embrace  thee,  and  thou  shalt  die 
in  agony. 

"Adios,  Jose  de  Roderiguez !" 


124 


Lo!    Desire  is  potent.    Mayhap  you  "mil  find 

it  has  knotted 
A  scourge  for  your  quivering  flesh.    Whereof 

only  God  wotted. 


HAFID  THE   DWARF. 

BEING  INCARNATION  THE  -  -  SEVENTH  OF  THE 
Soui,  OSRU 

Baron  von  Altenberg,  crusader,  came  home 
to  his  castle  on  the  Rhine  and  his  little  daugh 
ter  Berta  from  dealings  with  the  Saracens. 
He  had  given  the  infidel  dogs  many  goodly 
blows  and,  by  the  grace  of  God,  brought  home 
a  whole  skin.  Also,  he  had  fetched  with  him 
among  the  spoils  of  his  right  arm  a  certain 
manikin  of  a  kind  seldom  seen  in  Teuton  lands. 
This  manikin  was  a  present  for  the  little  Berta. 

"Hi !  little  maid,"  quoth  the  Baron,  "I  have 
brought  thee  a  goodly  toy.  Behold!"  and  he 
pulled  forward  the  little  man  who  came  barely 

127 


OSRU 

to  the  elbow  of  the  fourteen-year-old  Berta. 

"So.  Thou  shalt  have  some  one  to  keep  thee 
merry,  when  next  I  go  to  wrest  the  tomb  of  our 
Blessed  Lord  from  the  accursed  hands  of  the 
Turks.  He  hath  frolicsome  antics  shall  make 
thee  laugh  till  thy  sides  are  sore.  And  he  hath 
a  clever  wit.  Already  he  knoweth  our  tongue 
as  his  own.  He  is  thine,  Bertlein.  And  thou 
shalt  teach  him  to  love  the  Savior  and  hate 
the  Saracen.  Belike,  thou  wilt  find  thou  hast 
little  to  teach  him  concerning  that  last.  Me- 
thinks  he  hath  good  reason  to  hate  the  Sara 
cen.  Look  thou  here." 

He  laid  hold  of  the  dwarf  and  pulled  him 
toward  him,  not  roughly  but  without  taking  ac 
count  of  his  manhood  or  even  his  humanity; 
rather,  treating  him  as  something  between  a 
child  and  a  doll.  He  stripped  off  the  short 
Turkish  jacket  he  wore  and  jerked  open  the 
blouse  shirt  underneath. 

128 


HAFID 

Across  his  chest,  laid  evenly  with  an  awful 
precision  that  suggested  a  devilish  skill  in 
wielding  the  whip,  were  the  scars  of  great 
welts  that  had  once  gone  deep. 

The  sensitive  Berta's  impressions  of  her  new 
toy  and  playmate  were  scarcely  as  roseate  as 
her  father  had  expected.  Later  Northern  Eu 
rope  learned  the  dreadful  art  of  making 
dwarfs,  but  at  this  period  they  were  unknown. 
Hand's  squat,  barrel-shaped  trunk  and  hands 
that  touched  the  floor  like  an  ape's  moved  her 
to  something  like  nausea,  but  the  scars  on  his 
breast  and  a  certain  wistfulness  in  his  smile 
stirred  the  depths  of  her  gentle  heart.  She  put 
out  a  timid  hand  and  the  dwarf,  skilled  beyond 
more  fortunate  men  in  reading  faces,  sank 
thankfully  to  his  knees  and  kissed  the  fingers 
of  his  new  mistress,  aware  that  a  happier  era 
had  begun  for  him. 

As  for  Berta,  she  found  her  father  had  by 
129 


OSRU 

no  means  overstated  Hafid' s  power  to  amuse. 
But  none  of  his  tricks  and  antics  so  absorbed 
and  fascinated  her  as  the  tales  he  told  of  the 
people  among  whom  he  had  lived.  Weird 
tales,  as  though  the  Arabian  Nights  folk  (of 
whom  she  had  never  heard)  had  come  to  life 
and  frolicked  anew. 

"But  tell  me  thine  own  tale,  Hand!" 

"Nay,  mistress!" 

"Then  will  I  have  thee  beaten !" 

"Nay,  mistress!  But  tell  me  rather  of  the 
blessed  Savior.  Thou'rt  over  young  to  hear 
the  tale  of  Hafid  the  dwarf,  fair  mistress !" 

"Hafid!  Then  I  shall  assuredly  have  thee 
beaten  if  thou  dost  continue  to  disobey  me !" 

But  Hafid  only  smiled  wistfully  and  renewed 
his  request  to  be  told  of  the  Holy  Jesus.  He 
knew  well  'twas  not  through  such  lips  as  the 
tender-hearted  Berta's  that  commands  for 
beatings  came. 

130 


HAFID 

Because  Berta  asked  him  very  often  to  tell 
what  had  befallen  himself,  it  happened  that  he 
heard  very  often  the  story  of  Christ.  So  good 
came  ot  it.  For  presently  the  wondrous  gen 
tleness  of  the  Holy  One  of  Nazareth  crept  into 
his  heart  and  drove  out  the  bitterness  that 
man's  inhumanity  had  put  there,  and  at  last  he 
could  speak  to  Berta  quietly  and  without  ran 
cor  of  those  things  that  had  been  his  lot. 

"I  am  a  Greek.  The  Turks  stole  me,  little 
maid.  This,  our  blessed  Lord  permitted.  May 
hap  had  I  known  Him  then  He  had  not  suf 
fered  it.  While  my  bones  were  still  soft  and 
young  they  misshaped  me  thus.  Nay,  the  good 
Lord  gave  me  not  this  body.  'Tis  the  work  of 
human  hands.  I  am  thy  plaything,  little  lady, 
but  to  be  thy  plaything  is  to  be  free  and  to  be 
a  man.  Yea,  a  man!  To  be  the  plaything  of 
Ahmed  the  sheikh — ah,  blessed  Jesus,  let  me 
forget ! 


OSRU 

"The  pirates  who  stole  me  kept  me  eight 
years  and  taught  me  many  things.  For  a 
dwarf  must  be  skilled  to  amuse  if  he  thinks 
to  keep  his  skin  on  his  bones. 

"At  what,  methinks,  must  have  been  sixteen 
years,  though  I  know  not  for  certain  mine  age 
when  they  snatched  me  from  Greece,  they  sold 
me  to  Ahmed  and  that  black  devil  of  a  Saracen 
owned  my  body  and  soul  till  thy  father  took 
me  from  him.  Of  a  truth,  the  dear  Lord  Jesus 
looked  with  pity  on  me  then. 

"  'Twas  not  that  sometimes  he  beat  me  till 
all  went  dark  and  I  fell.  Men  are  beaten. 
Stripes  I  can  take  like  a  man,  for  I  am  strong. 
If  I  had  nought  to  remember  save  those  times 
when  I  was  beaten  to  unconsciousness  'twere  a 
light  matter.  That  I  could  forgive,  even  as 
our  blessed  Lord  commandeth.  But  the  cursed 
Ahmed  had  a  cruel  wit  and  tormented  me 
sorely.  'Twas  his  whim  to  have  me  led  about 

132 


HAFID 

like  a  bear  by  a  collar  and  chain,  and  with  me 
a  brown  bear,  smallish  and  of  a  rough  coat. 
What  the  beast  did  I  must  do,  and  all  a  bear's 
tricks  I  learned.  Did  it  dance, — I  danced  too. 
Like  a  bear,  cumbrously.  When  it  went  on  all 
fours,  I  also  must  go  on  all  fours.  'Twas  bit 
ter!  To  be  mishandled  thus  and  treated  as  a 
beast  to  make  men  sport ! 

"Ahmed  held  us  his  choicest  entertainment 
and  had  us  out  to  liven  all  his  guests.  Each  of 
us  had  a  keeper,  a  huge  black-a-moor,  the  twain 
dressed  in  the  self-same  fashion.  For  the  bear, 
'twas  nought.  He  had  not  a  man's  feelings 
wherewith  to  suffer  at  the  indignities  put 
upon  us. 

"In  an  evil  hour  Ahmed,  wearying  of  using 
me  as  a  dancing  bear,  bethought  him  to  get  a 
monkey  and  train  me  to  monkey  capers.  So  I 
must  needs  learn  to  swing  on  bars  and  hang 
head  downward  and  such  like  tricks.  'Twas 

133 


OSRU 

worse  than  death.  What  the  ape  did  I  must 
copy  when  'twas  Ahmed's  caprice  thus  to  make 
sport  of  me,  to  while  the  time.  And  when  the 
animal  swung  by  the  tail  they  would  grow  un 
seemly  with  laughter.  I  could  not  follow. 
Forsooth,  he  was  the  cleverer. 

"These  be  but  the  worst  of  the  ways  Ahmed 
hath  devised  from  time  to  time  to  torment  me. 
May  the  blessed  Lord  put  out  his  eyes  and 
wither  his  arms ! 

"I  will  confess  the  truth  to  thee  now,  sweet 
mistress!  Hand  hath  hitherto  feared  to  tell 
thee  this,  lest  thou  shouldst  desire  to  do  like 
wise! 

"Nay,  nay!  I  know  it  well!  Thou  wouldst 
not!  If  the  Blessed  Lord  is  gentle,  even  as 
thou,  then  will  I,  too,  love  Him  forever." 


134 


Lo!    Desire  is  potent.    Behold  in  the  Sheaves 

you  are  reaping 
The  Harvest  of  Former  Desire.    So  a  truce  to 

your  weeping. 


JEANIE  CAMPBELL. 

BEING  INCARNATION  THE  -  -  EIGHTH  OF  THE 
SOUL  OSRU 

The  London  alleys  were  dark  and  far  from 
safe  in  the  days  of  Bess  the  Queen.  This  one, 
however,  held  nothing  worse  than  a  bedraggled 
girl.  She  crept  out  of  a  doorway  and  clasped 
the  arms  of  the  men  who  passed.  But  they 
shook  her  off.  She  was  not  of  those  who  create 
desire.  Consumption  was  wasting  her  to  the 

bone. 

Close  on  to  midnight  came  another  pedes 
trian,  the  first  for  half  an  hour. 

"Come  wi'  me,  man  dear.  Come  awa'  wi' 
me,"  she  wheedled,  with  strained  coquetry. 

137 


OSRU 

The  man  essayed  to  free  himself  from  her 
clinging  but  less  roughly  than  the  others  had. 
She  was  not  to  be  so  lightly  shaken  off.  She 
plead  with  him  eagerly. 

"Not  I,  lass.  Gang  hame  alang  and  let  be 
thy  de'il's  trade  for  this  one  night,  i'  the  name 
o'  God." 

He  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket  for  the 
coin  which  should  free  her  from  the  necessity 
of  keeping  longer  vigil  on  the  doorstep. 

He  found  the  girl's  hand  there. 

"Sae,  sae,  lass?"  said  Duncan  McDonald. 
He  drew  out  the  interloping  hand  and  looked 
at  it.  The  frail,  damp  fingers  still  held  the 
half  crown  they  had  closed  over. 

The  girl  began  to  laugh  hysterically. 

"At  last!  at  last!"  she  said,  over  and  over, 
mixing  the  words  with  the  laughter.  "At  last ! 
at  last !  at  last !" 

The  laugh  twisted  itself  into  a  cough  that 

138 


JEANIE  CAMPBELL 

shook  her  till  she  would  have  fallen  if  McDon 
ald  had  not  caught  her.  He  drew  her  down  on 
the  steps  of  the  nearest  house  and  put  his 
brandy  flask  to  her  lips. 

"Now,  lass,"  he  said  sternly,  when  it  became 
possible  to  speak  to  her  again,  "tell  me  a'.  I 
canna  leave  thee  here  to  pick  the  gowd  frae 
the  pockets  o'  the  night  wanderers.  The  Lord 
kens  weel  'tis  nae  waur  than  thy  trade,  but  the 
law  suffers  the  tane,  an'  punishes  the  tither. 
Come,  lassie,  come."  The  girl  was  sobbing 
convulsively. 

"I  dinna  care  what  ye  do  wi'  me,"  was  all 
she  would  say.  "I  kent  it  maun  come  tae  this." 
The  forlorn  droop  of  her  shoulders  smote  Dun 
can.  He  drew  her  into  the  bar  of  moonlight 
that  was  the  sole  lamp  of  that  hole  of  darkness. 

"Tut,  tut,"  he  muttered.  "Bitter  business! 
unco  bitter  business !  Here,  lass."  He  pressed 
into  her  hand  the  piece  of  money  he  had  taken 

139 


OSRU 

from  her  inert  fingers  and  another  with  it. 
"Tak'  them.  The  gowd  is  naught.  Now  gie 
o'er  greetin'  an'  tell  me  a'." 

The  girl  bent  forward  and  strained  to  see 
his  face. 

"Art  a 'man  o'  God,  guidman?"  she  whis 
pered.  She  had  noted  the  clerical  cut  of  his 
garments  when  he  drew  her  to  the  light. 

"Aye,  by  the  grace  o'  Christ,  wha'  bade  the 
Magdalen  gang  free  an'  sin  nae  mair.  Tell  me 
thy  tale.  Thou'rt  sick  unto  death,  an'  yet 
thou'rt  fain  to  sell  thy  body  to  the  de'il.  Aye, 
an'  this  ither  matter  o'  the  gowd.  Ye  ken  weel 
the  penalty  o'  the  law  for  sic  as  ye  caught  steal 
ing.  Nae,  be  na  fearfu'  o'  me,  but  tell  me  a'. 
An'  see,"  the  sternness  crept  into  his  voice 
again,  "see  thou  tell't  me  true." 

The  girl  sobbed  quietly. 

"I  sell  mysel  whiles  I  am  beaten  an'  driven 
forth  tae  get  gowd.  Look!"  She  pulled  the 

140 


JEANIE  CAMPBELL 

dress  off  her  shoulder,  indifferently,  turning 
slightly  to  show  her  bruised  back. 

Duncan  let  slip  a  groan  at  what  he  saw. 

"For  twal  nights  I  hae  taen  the  siller,  whiles 
nae  man  wad  tak  up  wi'  me,  an  I  daurna  gang 
back  wi'  out  gowd — I  daurna !  Jock  is  cruel ! 
The  river  is  the  place  for  me,  syne  men  winna 
look  at  me  nae  mair.  Lang  syne  the  river's 
waited  for  me.  For  a'  my  kind  it  waits.  I 
hae  tried  an'  tried,  but  I  canna  do  it.  Some 
what  aye  hauds  me  back  wi'  a  strang  arm.  The 
water  is  sae  black  an'  cauld  it  frights  me.  'Tis 
like  throwing  yoursel'  into  the  mou'  o'  the  pit 
o'  hell.  'Tis  strange,  but  I  fear  death  waur 
than  I  fear  Jock.  An'  I  kenna  why.  I  kenna 
why!  For  Jock  is  the  very  de'il  himsel.  I 
maun  get  the  courage  to  seek  out  the  river 
some  day — gin  Jock  doesna  beat  me  dead  first. 
Or  I  dinna  hang  for  stealing.  Gae  ye  tae  hae 
me  hang,  man  o'  God  ?" 

141 


OSRU 

"Nae,  nae,  lass,"  said  McDonald,  hastily, 
fearing  another  paroxysm  of  hysteria.  "Didna 
I  gie  thee  the  gowd?  Hae  peace.  Ye  shanna 
hang.  Nor  throw  thysel  into  the  river.  God 
forgie  all  men!  An'  the  brute  ye  ca'  Jock 
shanna  beat  ye  mair.  Ye  maun  die,  puir  lass. 
The  seal  o'  death  is  e'en  now  upo'  thee.  Canna 
ye  see  it  yoursel?  But  ye  shall  hae  peace  an' 
a  saft  bed,  an'  lo'eing  care,  and  ye  shall  learn 
o'  thy  lo'eing  Savior,  wha  has  bled  an'  died  for 
sic  as  thee.  Wilt  come  wi'  me,  lass  ?  I'll  hide 
thee  sae  thou'lt  nae  mair  see  this  Jock,  wham 
God  will  punish  in  his  ain  guid  time.  Ah!" 
For  the  girl  had  quietly  lost  consciousness. 
Until  he  felt  her  heart  McDonald  feared  she 
was  dead. 

*  #  s|c  $  s|c  *  * 

"Hae  ye  heard?"  said  old  Margaret  Morri 
son  to  Peg  Nicholson,  her  crony.  "Campbell's 
Jeanie  cam  hame  last  night.  Lord  God!  Ye 

142 


JEANIE  CAMPBELL 

maun  see  her !  Her  that  waur  syne  sic  a  bonnie 
lassie,  she's  nae  mair  than  skin  stretched  o'er 
banes.  The  puir,  white  face  o'  her ! 

"Aye,  ye  kent?  'Twas  Meester  McDonald, 
o'  Alexander's  kirk  on  the  ither  side  o'  Ayr, 
that  found  the  puir  lass  at  the  de'il's  wark  i' 
the  Lunnon  streets. 

"Wi'  Lady  Mary  Beaton  she  maun  gang  tae 
Lunnon  town  seven  years  syne.  I  kent  her 
weel,  the  sonsie  lass.  'Twas  by  some  English 
de'il  o'  ae  sarving  man  she  was  undone.  Nae, 
na  sae  as  ye  think.  Her  heart  didna  stray.  She 
lo'ed  him  not,  then  or  ever.  He  kidnappit  her. 
She  was  snatched  frae  the  end  o'  the  garden 
o'  my  Lady  Mary's,  an'  keepit  close  prisoner, 
wi'in  lockit  rooms.  This  cursed  English  lackey 
kent  a  great  laird  had  cast  eyes  o'  luve  on 
Jeanie,  but  Jeanie  wadna  hae  him.  Sae  this 
Jock,  this  black-hearted  spawn  o'  the  midden, 
thought  tae  get  her,  an'  bargain  wi'  the  great 

143 


OSRU 

man  for  her.  An'  sae  he  did.  God  maun  set 
him  i'  the  middle  o'  the  Pit,  for  what  he  has 
done  tae  her.  Hey,  tutti  taiti !  He  made  her 
suffer ! 

"Syne  cam  ither  lairds  an'  gentles,  an'  Jock 
bade  them  come  in.  But  he  wadna  let  Jeanie 
gang  out,  till  the  great  lairds  wanted  her  nae 
mair,  an'  the  cough  had  grippit  her.  Then  he 
sent  her  into  the  street.  Puir  pretty  Jeanie! 
Puir  sonsie  lassie !  An'  guid  as  she  waur  bon- 
nie.  Why  has  the  Lord  dealt  sae  heavily  wi' 
sic  an  ane?" 

"An'  we  hae  thought  lang  syne  'twas  by  her 
ain  evil  wish  that  nane  kent  what  had  come  tae 
her.  An'  her  mither  wi'  breakin'  heart!  I 
dinna  ken  why  the  Lord  has  done  it  a' !" 

"Meester  McDonald  bides  i'  the  village  tae 
labor  for  her  soul.  A  guid  man.  God  hae  him 

i'  his  keeping !" 

******* 

144 


JEANIE  CAMPBELL 

Jeanie  shook  her  head. 

"I  winna  believe  there's  a  God — or  in  Christ, 
His  Son,"  she  said. 

"My  lass,  my  lass,  dinna  blaspheme!"  cried 
Duncan,  the  sweat  of  anguish  starting  out  on 
his  forehead.  "Dinna  tempt  the  Lord  thy  God, 
wha  is  able  an'  willin'  tae  save  thy  soul  alive 
by  th'  bluid  o'  His  dear  Son."  - 

But  Jeanie  still  shook  her  head.  Her  eyes 
burned. 

"I  hae  thought  o'  it  night  an'  day.  There 
canna  be  a  God.  Ye,  wha  are  but  a  man,  wad 
ye  hae  delivered  me  into  the  hands  o'  Jock? 
Gin  God  were  God,  an'  nae  a  de'il,  wad  He  do 
waur  than  ye  wad  do?  What  hae  I  e'er  done, 
that  wicked  men  suld  harm  me  ?  There  wasna 
ane  I  didna  shrink  frae.  Nae  ane.  'Twas  al 
ways  violence.  Ilka  day  an'  ilka,  ilka  night. 
An'  ye  tauld  me  God  is  Luve !  Whar  was  He, 
in  His  might,  when  I  had  need  o'  Him  ?" 

145 


OSRU 

"His  ways  are  na  sic  as  our  ways,"  said 
Duncan,  helplessly.  "Wha  are  we,  tae  judge 
Him  ?  Ye  dinna  ken  what  secret  sin  maun  be 
in  your  heart,  lass.  Man  canna  ken  the  ways 
o'  the  Lord.  They  are  righteous." 

"Nae.  Man  canna  ken  sic  ways,"  said 
Jeanie,  scornfully. 

"Repent,"  pleaded  Duncan.  "Ye  daurna  die 
in  your  sins,  an'  gang  tae  Hell." 

"My  sins?"  cried  Jeanie,  her  voice  shrilling 
suddenly.  "Wha  sinned,  me  or  Jock?  He  beat 
me  syne  I  maun  gang  out  an'  fetch  him  gowd. 
Was  that  the  justice  o'  God  or  His  mighty 
luve?  Tell  me  that,  man  o'  God!" 

"Wae's  me!  Ye'll  gang  tae  Hell.  I  canna 
save  ye !"  groaned  McDonald,  burying  his  face 
in  his  hands. 

Jeanie  put  out  a  frail  hand  and  touched  his 
shoulder. 

"I  hae  been  in  Hell,"  she  said.  "When  I  was 
146 


JEANIE  CAMPBELL 

young  an'  innocent  He  pit  me  there.  He  maun 
do  as  He  chooses  wi'  me  now.  I  canna  believe 
that  He  is  guid." 

She  turned  her  face  wearily  to  the  wall. 
McDonald  knelt  suddenly. 

"Oh,  thou  great  an'  just  God,  save  the  soul 
o'  this  puir  bairn  o'  Thine."  In  his  agony,  he 
said  the  same  words  over  and  over  blindly. 
His  power  to  pray  coherently  deserted  him  but 
an  aching  desire  burned  in  every  fibre  of  him 
that  this  so  wronged  child  should  reach 
Heaven. 

Afterward  he  never  could  remember  how 
long  he  stammered  out  his  heart-broken  peti 
tion,  or  say  whether  Jeanie  waked  or  slept.  He 
could  not  even  tell  them  whether  he  continued 
to  utter  aloud  the  prayer  that  filled  his  heart. 
But  presently  Jeanie  clutched  his  arm  and  cried 
out  so  sharply  that  he  looked  up  startled. 

Jeanie  sat  straight  up — Jeanie,  who  had  not 


OSRU 

lifted  her  head  for  days — staring  not  at  but 
beside  him. 

Her  eyes  were  raised  to  about  the  height  of 
a  man's  head  but  McDonald  could  not  see  what 
she  saw.  Yet  he  knew.  Yes,  he  knew !  As  he 
watched  her  face  change  from  wonder  to  awe, 
and  from  awe  to  peace,  and  from  peace  to  love, 
he  knew  wnose  face  she  saw  with  the  inner 
vision  and  whose  voice  she  listened  to.  It  was 
no  surprise  to  him  when  she  whispered,  "Aye, 
Lord !"  The  smile  that  came  to  her  mouth  at 
that  moment  did  not  fade  when  she  presently 
dropped  back  limply.  It  was  still  there  when 
she  lay  in  her  shroud  and  witnessed  silently  for 
him  as  he  told  his  unbelievable  story  of  the 
goodness  and  compassion  of  Christ. 


148 


Lo!    Desire  is  potent.    So  weaponed,  you  will 

not  be  beaten. 
But  the  Fruits  of  Desire,  whether  Honey  or 

Gall,  must  be  eaten. 


JACKSON'S  MILLIE. 

BEING  INCARNATION  THE  -  -  NINTH  OF  THE 
SOUL  OSRU 

Another  julep?  You'll  find  nothing  like 
that,  sir,  in  the  length  and  breadth  of  New 
England.  Yes,  sir.  I'm  a  yankee.  Connecti 
cut  yankee.  I  don't  have  this  here  southern 
accent  because  I  wa'n't  brought  up  by  a  nigger 
mammy.  That's  how  they  get  it.  I  reckon  you 
know  that.  The  southerners  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  themselves,  talking  like  niggers. 
I've  hung  onto  my  r's  for  forty  years  and  I 
don't  expect  ever  to  lose  them.  And  I've  got 
a  yankee  nurse  for  the  youngster  to  keep  his 
English  pure.  He  gets  lammed  every  time  he 


OSRU 

says  "heah."  I  won't  have  it.  I  had  the  best 
schooling  the  north  has  to  give,  and  he's  going 
to  have  the  same.  Harvard  '77,  sir.  No,  I 
wasn't  with  Washington.  It  didn't  matter  to 
me  what  the  government  was  just  so  it  got 
stable  again,  so  I  took  it  quietly  and  got  an  edu 
cation  and  let  those  that  wanted  to,  fight  it  out. 
The  best  way  when  you  have  nothing  at  stake 
yourself. 

It's  altogether  a  matter  of  business  with  me, 
living  in  Mississippi.  I'm  not  here  because  I 
like  their  damn  climate,  but  to  breed  niggers. 
Oh,  I  raise  cotton,  too,  but  that  isn't  the  main 
crop.  Got  to  have  something  to  keep  their 
dirty  black  hands  busy  on.  My  real  business 
since  I  turned  twenty-five  has  been  to  breed 
slaves  for  the  market.  I  saw  the  future  of  cot 
ton  way  back  in  1780.  Yes,  sir;  predicted  then 
that  blacks  would  drop  out  of  use  naturally  in 
the  north.  There  wa'n't  anything  they  could 

152 


JACKSON'S  MILLIE 

do  better,  or  half  as  well,  as  whites.  But  I  saw 
the  south  would  need  'em,  need  'em  bad.  I 
said  to  myself  that  the  kind  bred  on  the  soil 
would  be  like  gold  among  brass,  beside  the 
trash  picked  up  at  random  by  the  slavers  off 
the  African  coast  and  packed  so  thick  in  the 
hold  they  were  more  dead  than  alive  when  they 
got  them  on  the  block.  And  I  wa'n't  far 
wrong.  I  underestimated  it  a  little. 

I  don't  know  any  one  else  who's  had  the 
sense  to  go  about  it  systematically  and  scien 
tifically,  as  I  have.  I  breed  'em,  I  tell  you, 
breed  'em  like  cattle.  That's  what  they  are,  a 
high  grade  domestic  animal.  I  count  on  a  brat 
a  year  from  the  gals.  Oh,  no,  that's  not  un 
reasonable.  Why,  they  come  mighty  near  that 
left  to  themselves.  You  don't  understand  nig 
gers.  You  northerners  never  do. 

You  see  that's  pretty  much  all  the  work  I 
expect  of  them.  I  won't  allow  the  women  to 

153 


OSRU 

pull  cotton.  They're  all  house  niggers,  and  the 
Lord  Almighty  knows  they  have  a  pretty  easy 
time  of  it.  No,  of  course  there'd  be  nothing 
in  it  if  everybody  bred  for  the  market,  but  as 
it  is,  my  stock  is  known  all  over  the  south  and 
I'm  offered  higher  prices  every  year.  You  see 
I  won't  keep  a  man  on  the  place  that  isn't  fancy 
breed,  so  to  speak.  Sound  of  wind  and  limb 
and  strong  as  an  ox. 

No,  sir,  I  am  not  troubled  with  sentimental 
feelings  when  it  comes  to  separating  mothers 
and  children !  That's  all  bosh.  You  northern 
ers  don't  understand  niggers  and  you  never 
will.  You  picture  them  to  yourselves  with 
"white"  feelings,  but  that's  not  so.  Any  way 
the  Lord  separates  parents  and  children  every 
day  and  no  one  expects  Him  to  stop.  When  I 
sell  a  likely  youngster  down  the  river  all  his 
dam  has  to  do  is  to  imagine  that  he  died  and  be 
resigned.  And  that's  what  I  tell  her  if  she 

154 


JACKSON'S  MILLIE 

goes  to  make  a  fuss.  He  has  died,  as  far  as 
she's  concerned.  "The  Lord  gave,  and  the 
Lord  hath  taken  away.  Blessed  be  the  name 
of  the  Lord."  That's  her  cue. 

Oh,  I've  eliminated  the  question  of  fathers 
from  the  problem  altogether.  Couldn't  be  both 
ered.  I  simply  will  not  let  the  wenches  marry. 
If  the  men  want  to  marry  on  other  plantations 
I  don't  object,  but  they're  satisfied  on  the  whole 
with  my  way.  I  tell  you  again,  as  I  told  you 
before,  they  don't  know  anything  about  the 
"white"  point  of  view. 

I've  got  my  neighbors  down  on  me,  because 
I  won't  let  the  gals  marry.  But  what's  the 
odds  ?  It's  the  same  thing  in  Dutch,  their  way 
and  mine.  Take  my  neighbor  on  the  next  plan 
tation  now,  Godfrey  Carter,  Col.  Godfrey  Car 
ter.  Half  his  pickaninnies  are  a  damn  sight 
lighter  than  the  color  of  the  wenches  and  their 
lawful  wedded  husbands  justifies.  When  you 

155 


OSRU 

breed  for  the  market,  as  I  do,  some  few  rules 
are  necessary.  And  I  notice  that  they  buy  my 
niggers  just  the  same,  even  if  they  do  slander 
my  methods. 

But  it  doesn't  fall  very  hard  on  the  women, 
to  part  with  their  offspring,  as  a  general  thing. 
Usually  the  brats  are  at  least  half  grown  be 
fore  I  have  an  offer  I'll  look  at  and  then,  as  I 
tell  the  wenches  when  they  offer  to  take  it  nasty 
once  in  a  while — they've  always  plenty  more — 
and  plenty  to  come. 

I've  never  had  any  real  trouble,  except  with 
Millie.  Millie  was  the  wench  who  brought  out 
those  last  juleps.  Did  you  notice  her?  I 
thought  so.  Millie's  noticeable,  as  niggers  go. 
But  she  ain't  what  she  was  in  her  young  days. 
Millie's  turned  forty-eight.  Did  you  ever  see 
the  beat  of  that  sassy  carriage?  And  those 
eyes !  She  hates  me  as  she  wouldn't  the  devil 

156 


JACKSON'S  MILLIE 

himself,  and  she  takes  delight  in  showing  it. 
That  proves  how  easy  I  am  with  them.  Of 
course  I  could  break  her  will,  but  up  to  about 
now  I've  had  to  keep  her  in  good  condition  for 
business  reasons.  And  she  knows  it,  so  there 
you  are.  But  my  time's  coming. 

I  don't  usually  sell  under  fifteen — can't  get 
the  price.  But  some  kind  of  fate  was  after 
Millie's  children.  Again  and  again  I'd  have 
offers  for  hers  when  they  wa'n't  over  five  or 
six — offers  it  would  be  a  sin  and  against  na 
ture  to  refuse.  Why  I've  had  the  price  I'd 
expect  to  get  for  the  full-grown  nigger,  offered 
me  for  her  brats  when  they  couldn't  do  a  thing 
beyond  picking  up  a  handkerchief!  I  don't 
wonder,  in  a  way.  Millie's  a  Creole  nigger,  and 
three- fourths  white  herself.  Most  of  her  brats 
have  been  lighter  yet,  and  that  pert  and  pretty 
they'd  be  singled  out  from  the  whole  litter  of 

157 


OSRU 

pickaninnies  by  every  man  who  came  here.  So 
whenever  a  pickaninny  was  wanted,  it  gen 
erally  came  from  Millie's  brood. 

It  went  along  and  went  along,  and  some  fate 
kept  singling  out  her  brats  and  carrying  them 
off  at  anywhere  from  five  to  eight  years.  She 
actually  hasn't  kept  a  child  over  eight  years, 
except  the  lame  one.  First  off,  it  was  purely 
a  matter  that  fate  attended  to.  I  sold  them  be 
cause  no  man  in  his  right  mind  would  have  re 
fused  the  offers  I  had  for  them.  But  latterly 
I've  played  fate  some  myself.  She  roused  my 
dander  after  a  time,  you  see.  I  think  I  would 
sell  a  brat  of  Millie's  at  a  sacrifice  if  it  got  over 
eight,  but  I've  not  needed  to,  so  far.  She's  the 
most  profitable  nigger  I  ever  had  even  if  she 
did  cheat  me  out  of  four  years'  returns.  That 
happened  this  way.  Millie  had  her  first  brat 
at  fifteen.  Well  along  about  thirty-five  or  so, 
she  got  the  very  devil  in  her  and  no  mistake. 

158 


JACKSON'S  MILLIE 

She'd  had  eighteen  children  in  those  twenty 
years,  and  the  iron  had  entered  her  soul,  it 
seems.  What  d'you  say  ?  Well,  she  is  an  ex 
ception.  But  any  way,  she's  three-fourths 
white.  She  ought  to  have  some  notion  of 
"white"  feelings.  As  I  was  saying  the  iron 
had  entered  her  soul,  for  she  only  had  the  three 
youngest  left.  You'd  have  thought  three'd 
have  kept  her  contented,  but  there's  no  reason 
in  these  niggers.  I  swear  before  God  that  up 
to  that  time  I  had  never  sold  a  brat  of  Millie's 
to  tantalize  her,  but  she  insisted  I  had  and  she 
wouldn't  get  out  of  the  notion. 

Well  for  three  years  if  you  please,  that 
wench  was  barren.  Time  went  on  and  on  but 
no  sign  of  any  more  of  Millie's.  The  doctor 
couldn't  make  it  out.  I  always  keep  a  doctor 
on  the  place.  When  you  breed  niggers,  it  pays 
his  salary  a  dozen  times  over  to  keep  them 
looked  after  and  right  up  in  prime  condition. 

159 


OSRU 

Now  you  know  it's  unheard  of  for  a  nigger 
wench  to  go  barren  at  thirty-five.  But  at  last 
she  lost  her  head  and  got  to  boasting  that  she'd 
bear  no  more  children  for  me  to  sell  down  the 
river.  So  then  I  knew  how  to  bring  her  round. 
The  youngest  of  her  brats  was  three,  so  I 
looked  out  for  a  chance  and  sold  the  three  at 
one  lick.  This  time  I  did  do  it  a-purpose,  and 
what's  more  I  told  her  so.  I  thought  after 
wards  that  the  easiest  way  to  have  brought  her 
to  terms  would  have  been  to  have  threatened 
to  sell  them,  but  I'm  quick-tempered.  I  didn't 
stop  to  think  it  all  out,  just  paid  her  back  in 
her  own  coin.  The  impulse  took  me  by  the 
throat,  so  to  speak,  and  right  on  top  of  that  the 
opportunity  came  and  I  seized  it.  Then  I  had 
Millie  on  my  hands  for  a  while  I  can  tell  you. 
She  was  like  a  wild  devil.  I  had  to  have  her 
watched  for  days  for  fear  she'd  kill  herself 
or  me.  When  we  finally  came  to  terms  I  had 

1 60 


JACKSON'S  MILLIE 

to  promise  her,  that  if  she  ever  had  a  child  that 
was  imperfect  in  any  way  she  might  keep  it. 
I  thought  I  was  safe  to  promise  that,  but  by 
God,  sir,  the  next  brat  she  had  had  a  twisted 
foot.  I  don't  know  how  it  happened.  The 
niggers  claimed  she  used  voodoo  charms.  At 
any  rate  there's  the  fact.  So  that  made  four 
years  she  didn't  do  her  duty  by  me.  Never, 
since  I  bought  my  first  nigger  forty-one  years 
ago,  have  I  been  so  riled  toward  one  of  them  as 
I  am  toward  her.  I've  held  my  hand  for  busi 
ness  reasons,  but  I  needn't  do  that  much  longer. 
My  turn's  coming.  I'll  make  a  field  nigger  of 
her  pretty  soon  and  keep  her  there  till  she's 
ready  to  go  down  on  her  knees  and  beg  my 
pardon  for  what  she's  done,  and  own  up  that 
she's  lived  like  a  queen  all  her  life  and  never 
knew  it.  I'll  see  to  it  that  she  gets  the  airs 
and  sassiness  welted  out  of  her.  Oh,  I'll  break 
her  yet!  But  meantime  fate  has  had  another 

161 


OSRU 

fling  at  her.  By  God,  sir,  it's  preposterous,  the 
way  that  wench  has  caught  it  from  all  sides, 
after  all.  She's  got  exactly  one  child  now.  A 
brat  about  seven  months  old. 

Yes,  that's  what  I'm  going  to  tell  you,  what 
happened  to  Jim.  I  kept  my  word  and  didn't 
sell  him.  He  was  worth  more  to  keep  Millie 
good-natured  and  up  to  her  duty,  any  way. 
Besides,  I  never  had  an  offer  for  her  club- 
footed  cub.  But  mind  you,  about  a  year  ago 
Jim  came  back  from  an  errand  to  another 
plantation  and  brought  the  measles.  Now  this 
is  where  fate  comes  in  again,  flat-footed.  Jim 
died,  and  the  two  Millie  had  left  died.  She 
only  had  two,  fortunately,  for  I've  kept  hers 
sold  down  pretty  close  the  last  ten  years.  But 
not  another  pickaninny  on  the  place,  though 
most  of  them  had  it,  took  any  harm  from  it. 

Talk  about  fate !  I  tried  to  make  Millie  see 
that  the  Lord  was  punishing  her  for  not  having 

162 


JACKSON'S  MILLIE 

done  her  duty  in  that  state  of  life  in  which  it 
had  pleased  Him  to  place  her.  Millie  got  re 
ligion  four  or  five  years  ago,  and  I  thought 
that  ought  to  be  just  the  argument  to  touch  her 
heart,  but  she  only  spit  at  me.  I  mean  exactly 
that,  spit  at  me.  It  makes  them  mighty  sassy, 
these  wenches,  when  they  think  they're  so  valu 
able  for  breeding  purposes  that  you  won't  beat 
them.  I've  made  it  a  rule  to  keep  business  con 
siderations  first,  but  Lord,  I  don't  quite  know 
how  I've  happened  to  stick  it  out  in  her  case. 

Oh,  yes,  Millie  realizes  that  her  breeding 
days  are  about  over.  But  she  thinks  I'm  going 
to  sell  her.  I  always  sell  'em  with  their  last 
brat  you  see,  while  they're  still  useful,  and  she 
knows  that.  There  isn't  an  old  negress  on 
the  place.  And  Millie  thinks,  d'you  see,  be 
cause  I  have  put  up  with  her  impudence  for 
business  reasons,  that  I  shall  go  right  on  and 
sell  her,  just  the  same  as  any  other  wench,  at 

163 


OSRU 

a  certain  age.  But  no;  I  sha'n't  sell  Millie. 
I've  got  a  few  scores  against  her,  and  I  guess 
I  can  afford  to  settle  them.  No,  she  isn't  a 
field  hand  yet.  This  last  brat  of  hers  needs  her 
for  a  while  still. 

Well,  as  I  was  saying,  that's  the  way  fate 
looked  after  Jim  and  the  two  others.  I  lost  two 
likely  niggers  that  time.  I  don't  count  Jim 
among  my  losses,  but  it's  always  been  a  sort  of 
consolation  to  me  that  Millie  lost  him  too.  She 
took  on  like  mad  at  the  time,  and  if  she  hadn't 
found  religion  good  and  strong,  I  don't  know 
what  methods  we  could  have  used  to  calm  her 
down.  But  after  a  time,  sir,  she  had  the  im 
pudence  to  tell  me  that  she  was  glad  the  Lord 
took  them  before  I  had  a  chance  to  sell  them 
down  the  river.  I've  chalked  that  up  against 
her,  too.  She  spends  her  time  between  pray 
ing  the  Lord  for  deliverance  and  for  venge 
ance  on  me.  As  if  the  Lord  interfered  in  the 

164 


JACKSON'S  MILLIE 

affairs  of  niggers.  I  can't  notice  that  he  con 
cerns  himself  particularly  with  the  affairs  of 
white  folks.  It's  all  chance — and  business 
ability. 

Yes,  yes,  perhaps  the  Lord  did  interfere 
when  he  sent  you  along  to  get  my  little  shaver 
out  of  the  danger  his  fool  of  a  nurse  had  let 
him  into.  My  God !  If  I  lost  him !  He's  the  only 
one  I  ever  had.  I  didn't  marry  till  fifty-five, 
and  I  shouldn't  have  then  if  I  hadn't  wanted 
an  heir. 

Eh !  Oh,  they  don't  count.  Do  you  suppose 
any  southern  gentleman  takes  account  of  them, 
when  he  makes  his  will? 

Sell  Millie?  Zounds,  man !  Haven't  I  made 
it  plain  that  she's  had  my  dander  riz  these  fif 
teen  year,  so's  it's  made  it  hard  for  me  to  keep 
a  cool  business  head  where  she's  been  con 
cerned?  She's  going  to  the  cotton  field  just 
as  soon  as  the  cotton's  ready  to  pull.  That 

165 


OSRU 

nigger's  got  to  knuckle  down  to  me  on  her 
bended  knees,  if  I  have  to  half  kill  her  to  get 
her  there.  I'll  break  her  as  I'd  break  a  wild 
horse.  Do  you  suppose  I've  bided  my  time, 
and  stood  her  impudence  for  business  reasons, 
to  be  done  out  of  my  turn  at  the  last  moment  ? 

I  know,  I  know,  I  understand  my  debt  to 
you,  sir.  If  you  hadn't  got  to  the  little  chap 
just  when  you  did — my  God,  I'd  have  let  my 
whole  bunch  of  niggers  go,  when  I  saw  the 
slim  chance  he  had.  But  ask  me  anything  else. 
Anything  in  reason,  sir,  and  it's  yours. 

Zounds!  I  knew  you  were  a  preacher,  a 
preacher  and  a  northerner.  Why  did  I  have  to 
babble  to  you  about  the  wench  Millie?  Our 
southern  clergymen,  sir,  preach  the  Bible,  sir 
— that  a  slave  should  be  subject  to  his  master 
in  all  things! 

Well,  you've  got  me  down,  sir,  I  won't  deny 
it.  But  I  won't  sell  Millie.  If  that's  the  only 

166 


JACKSON'S  MILLIE 

way  I  can  square  my  big  account  with  you,  I'll 
give  her  to  you,  sir.  Yes,  and  the  brat.  Lord ! 
This  comes  near  being  more  than  I  can  stand ! 
What'll  you  do  with  her  ? 

Well,  by  the  great  horn  spoon ! 

If  anybody  had  told  me  last  week,  that  I'd 
give  Millie  away  to  a  preacher  from  New  York 
who  was  going  to  set  her  free  I'd  have  killed 
myself  laughing  at  him!  By  God!  I  would, 
sir! 

I've  a  notion  the  Lord  has  took  notice  of 
Millie's  prayers  at  last.  I'd  never  have  be 
lieved  it.  Here's  her  "deliverance."  But  there 
ain't  any  vengeance  on  me  in  sight,  I'm  re 
lieved  to  notice. 

It's  a  remarkable  coincidence,  sir!  If  you 
hadn't  had  the  nerve  and  grit  to  do  what  you 
did  for  the  little  lad,  when  it  might  have  meant 
death  for  both  of  you  sir — oh,  I  appreciate  your 
courage,  sir,  b'Gad,  I  do!  And  if,  on  the  top 

167 


OSRU 

of  that,  I  hadn't  let  my  tongue  wag  like  an  old 
fool's  about  Millie — 

Well,  I'm  sorry.  I'll  make  no  bones  of  that. 
But  I  pay  my  debts  of  honor  on  demand.  On 
demand,  sir.  Millie's  yours.  Yes,  and  the  brat. 

I'll  make  out  the  papers  in  the  morning. 


168 


Lo!  Desire  is  potent.  But  endless  its  wax 
ing  and  waning 

Till  with  Justice  (called  Love)  it  be  blent,  the 
True  Path  attaining. 


JARED  WILLSON. 

BEING  INCARNATION  THE;  -  -  TENTH  OF  THE 
SOUL  OSRU 

Jared  Willson,  staunch  union  man,  took  ad 
vantage  of  the  prolonged  applause  to  slake  his 
thirst  from  the  contents  of  the  white  stone- 
china  pitcher  at  his  elbow.  He  drew  the  back 
of  his  hand  across  his  mouth,  brushed  the  hand 
absently  against  his  right  trouser  leg,  and 
faced  his  audience  again. 

His  eyes  blazed  with  strong  personal  feel 
ing.  Somehow  his  subject  was  a  little  out  of 
hand  to-night;  had  the  bit  in  its  teeth  and  was 
dragging  him  along.  For  one  thing,  the  day 
was  an  anniversary  of  great  sadness  to  him 

171 


OSRU 

and  memory  had  been  torturing  him  cruelly. 

"  'Taint  fer  no  milk-and-water,  mushy- 
wushy  sentimental  reasons,  nor  yet  fer  fear — 
you  know  me,  all  of  you,  and  you  know  it  aint 
fer  fear, — that  I'm  telling  you  to  leave  venge 
ance  out  of  the  matter  and  go  in  fer  justice, 
jest  plain,  unadulterated  justice.  You  kin 
safely  leave  the  vengeance  to  Gawd — He's 
looking  out  fer  that — and  don't  you  fergit  it! 
But  look  out  fer  yerselves,  that  there  aint  no 
vengeance  owin'  t'you,  fer  you'll  surely  git  it, 
here  or  hereafter,  here  or  hereafter. 

"So  what  I  say  is  this.  If  it'll  improve  the 
conditions  of  you  and  yer  mates  in  any  way — 
really  improve  them — to  smash  a  damned  mil 
lionaire,  why  smash  him.  Blow  him  up  with 
dynamite  if  you  want ;  only  be  damn  sure  that 
getting  him  out  of  the  way  is  a  reel  step  toward 
justice."  (Applause.) 

"As  sure  as  there's  a  Gawd  in  heaven,  and 
172 


JARED  WILLSON 

there  is,  they'll  all  pay  up  for  their  sins,  now 
or  by  and  by.  I've  been  a  Christian  fer  four 
teen  years  but  I  don't  want  none  of  this  here 
'only  believe  on  the  Lord  and  your  sins  shall 
be  washed  whiter  than  snow'  religion.  No, 
comrades,  the  Gawd  I  believe  in  is  a  just  Gawd. 
Let  the  mercy  go,  I  say.  Or  else,  make  it 
mercy  fer  the  sinned  against  and  justice  fer 
the  sinner."  (Applause.) 

"If  you  git  very  free  with  yer  mercy  to  the 
sinner,  the  sinned  against  is  tolerable  likely  not 
to  git  even  justice  done  him.  Justice  is  all  I 
want,  and  justice  is  what  I'm  willing  to  take 
fer  whatever  I've  done,  and  justice  I'll  work 
for,  night  and  day,  till  I  drop  dead."  (Ap 
plause.) 

"So  don't  you  waste  no  valyble  time,  like  our 
esteemed  friend  the  last  speaker,  growling 
about  the  good  times  the  men  who  rob  you  of 
your  earnings  are  having  with  their  ill-gotten 


OSRU 

gains.  They'll  pay.  As  sure  as  there's  a  Gawd 
they'll  pay,  measure  f  er  measure,  an  eye  f er  an 
eye,  and  a  tooth  f  er  a  tooth.  The  old  Jews  was 
right  about  it.  The  Gospel  is  true  too,  but  it 
don't  really  give  the  lie  to  the  plain,  sound  jus 
tice  of  an  eye  fer  an  eye  and  a  tooth  f  er  a  tooth, 
as  some  of  these  here  mushy  preachers  says 
it  does. 

"You  won't  find  nothing  in  the  words  spoken 
by  our  blessed  Lord  himself  to  interfere  with 
every  feller  getting  his  just  deserts.  You  just 
look  again  ef  you  think  so. 

"But  I  didn't  set  out  to  preach  no  sermon, 
lads.  Excuse  me  all.  What  I  wanted  to  say 
is  this.  Do  you  think  that  skinny  old  devil 
of  a  kerosene  thief,  fer  instance,  is  going  to 
pray  himself  out  of  any  of  the  sufferin'  that  is 
his  due  fer  the  way  he's  made  the  victims  of 
his  rascally  business  methods  suffer  ?  Not  one 
jot,  not  one  tittle.  Till  all  be  fulfilled.  Eternity 


JARED  WILLSON 

is  plenty  long.  He'll  have  time  to  suffer  pang 
fer  pang,  fer  every  pang  he's  ever  caused  any 
one.  And  he  can't  plead,  'Oh,  Lord!  I  didn't 
know  I  was  doin'  it !'  neither,  fer  he  knows  well 
enough  when  he's  doin'  as  he  wouldn't  like  to 
be  done  by  and  that's  plenty  to  fix  the  blame 
on  him. 

"I  don't  believe  in  no  eternal  hell,  because 
there  wouldn't  be  no  justice  in  letting  a  man  go 
on  sufferin'  after  he'd  felt  as  much  pain  as  he'd 
caused,  but  I  guess  it'll  take  most  of  eternity 
to  square  the  accounts  of  some  men.  His  sort, 
f'instance.  Why,  take  jest  one  case,  that  hap 
pened  to  come  beneath  my  notice.  This  devil 
forced  a  man  to  shut  down.  This  man  wouldn't 
sell  when  he  wanted  him  to — you  know  the 
trick — so  when  he  had  him  hipped  he  refused 
to  buy.  Teach  the  other  chaps  a  lesson,  you 
know. 

"There  was  one  man  who  had  worked  for 

175 


OSRU 

the  man  he  had  busted  up,  who  couldn't  get 
no  other  job.  Too  old,  you  know.  This  man 
had  a  wife  and  a  granddaughter.  They  starved 
for  a  while,  and  then  the  girl  got  tired  of  that 
and  drifted  onto  the  street  and  broke  their 
hearts.  Years  of  shame  and  sufferin'  fer  three 
people — and  only  Gawd  Almighty  knows  how 
many  more  suffered,  one  way  or  another,  from 
that  one  foxy  business  trick — and  a  few  more 
thousands  a  year  more  than  he  can  spend  fer 
the  old  cheat  that  planned  it  and  put  it 
through.  Now  ther'  aint  no  just  Gawd  that'll 
let  him  off  fer  one  second  of  the  sufferin'  he 
caused  them  three.  If  'twas  twenty  years 
apiece,  that  makes  sixty  fer  him.  Measure  fer 
measure,  a  tooth  fer  a  tooth. 

"No,  there  aint  no  Gawd  that  washes  away 
yer  sins  till  they're  paid  fer — don't  you  bank 
on  it  a  minute.  There  may  be  heaven,  there 
probably  is,  though  I  aint  no  good  on  figurin' 

176 


JARED  WILLSON 

out  what  it's  like.  But  I'm  sure  about  hell.  It's 
needed  fer  his  kind  and  bunches  of  others  as 
bad  in  various  ways.  But  I'm  preachin'  again. 
I  aint  myself  tonight !" 

(Cries  of  "Goon!") 

"When  I  got  religion  I  got  conviction  of  sin, 
but  I  didn't  want  nothin'  but  justice  even  fer 
myself.  I'm  willin'  to  suffer  for  every  bit  of 
pain  I  ever  caused.  I  don't  want  no  fergive- 
ness'  fer  my  sins — justice  is  plenty  good 
enough  fer  me.  I  tell  you  what,  there's  nothin' 
like  knowin'  you've  got  to  square  your  own 
account  some  time  or  other  to  make  you  care 
ful  what  you  do.  There's  nothin'  equal  to  it  in 
the  namby-pamby  'only  believe  and  your  sins 
shall  be  blotted  out  forever'  religion.  I  tell 
you,  no  believing  will  blot  out  a  single  sin. 
They'll  be  blotted  out  as  fast  as  you've  paid  fer 
them  in  kind;  paid  fer  them  in  kind!"  (Ap 
plause.  ) 

177 


OSRU 

Jared  Willson  wiped  the  sweat  from  his 
forehead  with  his  palm,  and  shook  the  drops 
from  his  hand. 

"Some  of  you  young  chaps  have  been  talking 
up  this  strike  in  the  wrong  sperit.  You'd  think, 
to  listen  to  some  of  you,  that  the  only  reason 
for  a  strike  was  to  cripple  the  capitalists  and 
give  them  less  money  to  spend  on  their  pleas 
ures.  Fool's  logic !  But  after  all,  it's  just  your 
unsatisfied  sense  of  justice  that's  putting  you 
wrong.  Your  heads  is  queered  but  your  hearts 
is  right.  Don't  get  the  notion  in  your  minds 
that  it's  your  business  to  spoil  the  fun  of  the 
men  who  are  spending  your  rightful  money. 
You've  got  bigger  business  than  that  I  hope. 
'Vengeance  is  mine;  I  will  repay,  saith  the 
Lord.'  And  He  don't  need  no  help  of  yours, 
neither.  If  a  man  deserves  death  He  can  drop 
a  flower-pot  on  his  head  as  he  passes  along  the 
street.  Or  tip  him  over  a  cliff  in  the  auto  that 


JARED  WILLSON 

he  bought  with  your  money.  He  don't  need 
none  o'  your  bombs,  He  don't.  If  a  man  de 
serves  torment,  and  he's  to  get  some  of  his  Hell 
right  here,  the  Lord  kin  let  loose  on  him  with 
some  horrible  disease  that  will  burn  like  hell 
fire. 

"I  won't  say  no  more  about  it.  You  kin  work 
it  out  fer  yerselves.  But  keep  it  clear  in  your 
heads  that  what  you're  workin'  fer  is  justice 
fer  yourselves  and  yer  fellows,  and  leave  jus 
tice  fer  yer  oppressors  to  work  itself  out. 
There's  a  hereafter  and  they'll  get  their  dues. 
Oh,  they'll  get  what  is  coming  to  them,  don't 
you  fret.  I  should  go  clean  mad,  when  I  re 
member  what  I've  suffered  through  no  fault 
of  mine,  if  I  didn't  have  that  blessed  faith  in  a 
just  Gawd  to  tie  to.  His  strong  right  arm  will 
overtake  every  one  of  the  devils  who  have  made 
my  life  a  hell  for  nigh  onto  thirty  years." 

He  choked  up  and  fell  silent  a  moment.  He 
179 


OSRU 

was  thinking  of  his  petted  Janet,  just  turned 
sixteen  who,  nine  years  ago  that  night,  had 
died  the  victim  of  some  ruthless,  unknown 
tramp. 

"  'The  Lord  do  so  to  me,  and  more  also/  if 
I've  ever  done  a  hundredth  part  of  the  mean 
ness  and  evil  that's  been  done  to  me.  I  don't 
want  nothin'  better  fer  myself  than  that  same 
justice  I  want  to  see  visited  on  the  heads  of 
my  enemies. 

"  'With  whatsoever  measure  ye  mete' — re 
member  that — 'with  whatsoever  measure  ye 
mete.'  " 

"Tell  me  a  story,  Jack!" 

"You  know  them  all,  Sis." 

"You  fibber !  Three  years  in  Cuba  and  home 
a  week — not  a  week  yet — and  you've  told  me 
all  your  stories  already!  Oh,  Jack!  Begin!" 

She  perched  on  the  arm  of  his  chair  and 
180 


JARED  WILLSON 

forcibly  conveyed  his  pipe  from  his  languid 
fingers. 

Jack  laughed. 

"All  right,  Kitten.  I'd  forgotten  what  a  dic 
tatorial  infant  you  were.  Give  it  here.  I  can't 
talk  without  it.  Now  stop  whisking  the  flies 
off  my  chin  with  the  end  of  your  pigtail,  that's 
an  angel  child.  Better  make  me  comfortable 
when  you  want  a  story,  there's  a  straight  tip 
for  you.  What  sort  of  story?" 

"About  some  man  who  was  brave.  About 
the  bravest  man  you  saw  in  the  whole  three 
years." 

Jack  smoked  with  irritating  deliberation. 

"Isn't  there  one  who  was  braver  than  the 
rest?" 

"There's  one  I  think  was  braver  than  the 
rest.  I  don't  know  whether  you'll  see  it,  Kate." 

"Goon,  Jack.    What  did  he  do  ?" 

"He  hardly  comes  up  to  specifications;  not 
181 


OSRU 

the  conventional  ones, — the  ones  you  judge 
heroes  by.  He  didn't  make  any  spectacular 
grandstand  play,  you  know.  I  believe  he  had 
about  six  lines  in  the  paper  handed  him  after 
wards.  That's  all  I  ever  saw.  He  didn't  look 
like  a  hero,  either.  He  looked  like  the  sort  of 
man  that  works  in  gangs  on  buildings.  A 
mason,  perhaps ;  certainly  no  higher." 

"Oh,  Jack!" 

"I'm  not  treating  you  very  well,  am  I,  Kate  ? 
Well,  this  is  a  story  from  life,  and  life  isn't  so 
very  picturesque."  He  picked  up  her  "Morte 
d'  Arthur"  that  lay  on  the  veranda  railing.  "If 
you  don't  like  my  hero  go  back  to  Mallory,  with 
his  dinky  Sir  Percivales  and  Sir  Launcelotes. 
We  can't  compete  with  him  now-a-days." 

Kate  laughed  and  pinched  his  cheek  till  he 
screwed  up  his  face  in  protest.  "If  he's  a  hero 
I  shan't  mind  his  being  a  workman." 

"How  good  of  you !  You  wouldn't  have  ap- 
182 


JARED  WILLSON 

proved  of  his  manners.  He  was  a  rough  old 
fellow  who  swore  about  as  often  as  you  say, 
'How  perfectly  dreadful.' '  * 

"How  perfectly  dreadful !" 

"Exactly.  And  he  swallowed  some  whiskey 
straight  about  as  often  as  you  drink  water." 

"Hm!"  sniffed  fastidious  Kitty,  who  was 
just  old  enough  to  begin  to  have  views  on  the 
liquor  habit. 

"You  don't  like  the  sort  my  hero  is?  Too 
bad.  And  what's  more,  he  was  by  no  means 
cleanly  in  his  habits.  I  never  saw  him  when  he 
didn't  have  dirty  finger  nails — " 

Katherine  put  a  firm  hand  over  his  mouth. 

"Now  that's  enough,  Jack  Ryder.  If  he's  a 
hero,  tell  me  about  it  and  quit  fooling." 

"Fooling,  young  lady!  I'm  merely  giving 
you  a  faithful  pen  picture !  But  all  right.  We'll 
skip  the  rest  of  the  personal  description  if  you 
want  to.  You're  too  young  to  appreciate  it, 

183 


OSRU 

that's  the  matter."    He  caught  her  chastising 
hand  and  held  it. 

"You  know  we  had  the  deuce  of  a  time  clean 
ing  Cuba  up.  And  especially  we  had  to  wipe 
out  the  yellow  fever  before  they  would  let  us 
come  home.  You  knew  about  that,  or  at  least 
you  thought  you  did.  You  know  that  after  a 
while  we  found  that  the  regular  Egyptian 
plague  of  mosquitoes  they  have  down  there 
carried  it." 

"I  read  all  about  that,"  quoth  Katherine, 
feeling  very  well  informed. 

"You  haven't  the  least  idea  what  fools  the 
Cubans  were.  Every  year  when  the  season 
came  round  they  used  to  lie  down  and  die,  as 
thick  as  flies  and  as  meek  as  good  old  Moses. 
They  never  thought  for  a  second  there  was 
anything  to  be  done  about  it." 

"Were  you  sorry  you  were  a  doctor  then?" 
questioned  Kitty. 

184 


JARED  WILLSON 

"No,"  said  Jack  shortly,  his  face  darkening. 
He  remembered  how  he  had  had  to  set  his  teeth 
when  he  started  for  the  quarantined  pavilions, 
until  habit  came  to  his  aid  and  he  could  go 
there  without  thinking  what  he  was  doing. 

"Some  of  the  experiments  we  had  to  try  got 
into  the  papers.  Not  all  of  them,  though.  Some 
of  them  weren't  very  dangerous  and  some  of 
them  were.  This  one  was." 

"What  one?" 

"The  one,"  said  Ryder,  "that  we  tried  on  the 
old  mason  who  didn't  clean  his  finger  nails." 

"Oh !"  said  Katherine.  And  then,  "Did  he 
die?" 

Jack  looked  carefully  enigmatic. 

"I  suppose  you've  picked  up  the  habit  of 
turning  over  to  read  the  last  page.  Don't  you 
know  that  spoils  the  story? 

"West — he  was  still  the  Surgeon-General 
then — posted  that  he  wanted  a  volunteer,  and 

185 


OSRU 

what  for.  Generally  when  he  asked  for  volun 
teers  he  got  'em — right  off  the  bat.  But  this 
time  there  were  just  about  nine  chances  out  of 
ten  that  the  volunteer  would  have  a  soldier's 
funeral,  d'you  see,  Kitten?  How  do  you  like 
my  hero  now  ?" 

"Did  he  die?" 

"Do  you  have  to  die  to  be  a  hero  ?"  evasively. 
"Well  there  weren't  any  takers  for  two  or 
three  days,  and  that's  a  long  time  for  one  of 
Uncle  Sam's  calls  for  volunteers  to  go  begging. 
Then  this  old  chap  came  around  to  headquar 
ters  and  asked  for  Dr.  West.  West  was  out 
and  they  handed  him  over  to  me.  He  hadn't 
come  to  volunteer  exactly,  he  had  a  lot  of  ques 
tions  to  ask  first.  But  it  wasn't  long  before  I 
saw  he  was  really  going  to  do  it.  I  was  sorry 
for  the  old  boy,  it  looked  to  me  so  like  a  dead 
sure  miss  for  him,  and  much  as  we  needed  his 

186 


1 

JARED  WILLSON 

help  I  talked  against  it.  Do  you  remember 
Mettus  Curtius?" 

"Of  course.  I  adored  him,"  said  Kate,  wink 
ing  away  the  unwelcomed  tears. 

"Don't  cry,  Kitten.  I'm  just  telling  you  a 
hero  story,  that's  all. 

"Every  time  he  was  off  duty  he'd  hunt  me 
up  with  more  questions  to  ask.  He  knew  ex 
actly  what  he  was  doing,  you  know.  There 
wasn't  any  hot-headed,  impulsive,  'hurrah  boys' 
physical  courage  about  it.  It  was  just  cold 
blooded  walking  up  and  shaking  hands  with 
death.  That's  a  lot  harder,  Kate. 

"I  used  to  ask  him  why  he  was  going  to  do 
it  and  what  do  you  think  he  said?  'I  don't 
know.  I've  never  done  nothin'  fer  nobody/ 
Doesn't  sound  much  like  Sir  Percivale-Launce- 
lot,  eh,  Kittie?" 

"Stop  about  Sir  Percivale-Launcelot !" 


OSRU 

"All  right.  And  then  he  would  go  on  quiz 
zing  me  about  what  would  come  of  it  if  we 
found  out  what  we  wanted  to  find  out,  and 
what  it  would  do  in  the  long  run  towards  clean 
ing  up  Cuba.  He  was  a  wise  old  bird.  Always 
every  five  minutes  or  so,  I'd  remind  him  that 
it  was  quite  on  the  cards  that  he  wouldn't  pull 
through  and  he  would  shrug  his  shoulders  and 
go  on  asking  the  keenest  questions,  till  he  knew 
just  about  as  much  about  it  as  I  did." 

"Was  he  very  unhappy?  Had  he  gone  to 
war  because  he  wanted  to  get  killed?"  asked 
Kate,  remembering  the  heroes  of  some  score 
of  novels. 

"No.  He  liked  living  well  enough.  He  just 
kept  saying  that  he  never  had  done  nothing 
for  nobody.  The  courage  bug  had  bitten  him  I 
guess,  Kitten,"  pinching  her  cheek  as  he  saw 
the  tears  start  again.  "Too  bad  about  his 
double  negatives,  isn't  it,  Toots?" 

1 88 


JARED  WILLSON 

"A  truly  hero  can  use  any  kind  of  grammar 
he  likes,"  declared  Kate  stoutly. 

"Right !  They'll  never  make  a  snob  of  you, 
Sis!" 

"Well?"  prompted  Katherine. 

"He  was  a  psychological  problem,"  mused 
Jack  aloud,  forgetting  her.  "He  wasn't  the 
sort  heroes  are  made  of  at  all — not  that  kind. 
Brute  courage,  maybe.  Sticking  to  his  engine 
till  it  was  ditched — that,  yes.  Not  the  Mettus 
Curtius  type." 

"Did  he  die?"  asked  Kittie,  her  eyes  widen 
ing. 

Jack  took  out  a  clipping  and  showed  it  to  her. 

"The  papers  didn't  get  at  all  of  it.  If  they 
had,  he'd  have  had  the  whole  of  their  first 
pages  at  least  once." 

Jared  Willson,  one  of  the  soldiers  who  volun 
teered  to  be  inoculated  by  the  bite  of  a  mosquito 
that  had  previously  bitten  a  yellow  fever  patient, 
is  dead.  He  was  one  of  six  who  answered  the  re- 

189 


OSRU 

cent  call  of  Surgeon-General  West  to  submit  to 
inoculation,  and  experimental  curative  treatment 
in  case  yellow  fever  developed.  The  incident  has 
proved  beyond  question  that  Yellow  Jack  has 
been  repeatedly  transmitted  by  mosquitoes.  It  is 
thought  certain  that  the  other  five  will  recover. 
Willson  is  a  martyr  to  science. 

"There,  there,  Kitten!"  sopping  her  eyes 
with  his  handkerchief.  "Don't  you  suppose 
they  take  good  care  of  heroes  when  they  get 
them  over  on  the  other  side  ?" 


190 


AFTERWORD. 

And  suddenly  the  Shining  One  was  with  me. 

Far,  dizzily  far  below  us  reeled  the  world. 
I  put  my  hand  out  timidly  and  grasped  a  flut 
tering  end  of  his  garment.  For  I  saw  that  I 
had  no  wings  and  I  was  very  sore  afraid.  The 
earth  swung  past  below  us  and  we  trod  lightly 
upon — what  ? 

He  looked  into  my  eyes,  smiling  serenely, 
and  withdrew  his  raiment  gently.  And 
straightway  I  was  ashamed  that  I  had  known 
fear. 

He  said:    "Is  not  God—  ?" 
191 


OSRU 

Then  I  smiled  also,  and  floated  gladly  beside 
him.  (Shoulder  to  shoulder,  the  angel  and  I, 
even  as  two  brothers.) 

And  he  said :  " You  have  seen  what  you  de 
sired  to  see." 

"I  have  seen." 

"And  you  have  understood?" 

I  answered :  "I  could  not  have  believed  that 
out  of  so  much  evil  good  would  come !" 

Said  the  Shining  One:  "What  is  Evil?" 
And  I  was  dumb  before  him. 

Then  he  said :    "What  is  Good  ?" 

And  still  I  was  dumb. 

He  looked  at  me  with  searching  eyes  that 
probed  to  the  roots  of  my  being.  And  suddenly 
a  light  stole  in  upon  my  soul  and  I  made  ex 
ultant  answer. 

"All  is  as  God  would  have  it !" 

Said  the  Shining  One :    "Even  so !" 
192 


AFTERWORD 

We  swept  through  space  together,  two  sons 
of  God,  gloriously  exulting,  thrilling  to  the 
dominant  chord  of  the  universe. 

All  is  even  as  God  would  have  it! 

I  looked  below  me  again.  The  earth  was  no 
longer  there,  so  far  had  we  fled  through  space. 
Neither  were  there  stars,  nor  any  other  planet. 
And  there  was  nor  darkness  nor  light,  yet  I 
saw  the  Shining  One. 

And  I  said:  "It  is  well  with  that  man 
but—" 

"But—?" 

I  plead  for  him. 

"But  he  does  not  know  it  is  well  with  him !" 

The  inscrutable,  smiling  eyes  of  the  Shining 
One  answered  somewhat,  but  I  could  not 
fathom  their  meaning. 

"If  he  might  but  know  what  I  know!"  I 
pleaded.  And  again. 

193 


OSRU 

"Even  if  he  must  straightway  forget  it,  and 
go  back  to  the  bitterness  of  earth  blind,  deaf, 
to  all  we  twain  understand !" 

The  tears  rained  from  my  eyes. 

"I  see  well  that  he  must  not  remember,  else 
no  pain  could  ever  again  hurt  him !  Yet  will  it 
strengthen  him  a  little  to  know  for  a  moment, 
and  the  strength  will  remain." 

I  cried  aloud. 

"He  has  great  need  of  strength.  The  path 
he  has  chosen  has  little  light  and  his  feet  will 
be  bruised  often." 

I  found  courage  to  stoop  and  kiss  the  hand 
of  the  Shining  One,  humbly  supplicating. 

Then  the  Shining  One  answered  me. 

"Those  lives  you  re-lived  but  now  were 
yours." 

I  hid  my  eyes  with  my  hands  and  fell 
through  space,  for  an  eternity.  The  seraph 
swept  down  beside  me. 

194 


AFTERWORD 

Afterwards,  I  uncovered  my  face  and  looked 
up.  The  smile  of  the  Radiant  One  was  even  as 
before,  inscrutable,  all-comprehending,  ineffa 
bly  gentle.  He  said: 

"It  is  given  to  all,  on  the  eve  of  returning  to 
embodiment,  thus  wholly  to  understand." 

And  I  said  to  him  then : 

"All  is  well,  for  all  is  as  God  wills  it !  I  will 
go  back  there  now,  to  endure  whatever  it  is  just 
that  I  should  endure.  But  I  am  fain,  if  this  be 
possible,  to  suffer  all  it  remains  for  me  to  suffer 
in  one  life  and  so  bring  it  to  an  end." 

The  Radiant  One  grew  of  a  sudden  more 
dazzling,  as  though  joy  streamed  from  him, 
and  he  said : 

"Even  so  you  chose,  the  last  time  you  drew 
near  the  earth  seeking  rebirth.  Behold,  that 
former  desire  and  the  fruits  thereof  are  ac 
complished.  It  is  now  given  you  to  desire 


anew." 


195 


OSRU 

Marvelling,  I  thought  aloud :  "I  do  not  un 
derstand  !" 

He  smiled. 

"What  would  you  fain  do  when  you  return 
to  the  flesh?" 

I  trembled. 

"That  which  I  choose — will  come  to  pass?" 

"Desire  is  potent." 

I  found  no  words. 

"And  also  the  fruits  of  desire  are  ever  to  be 
well  thought  upon." 

Then  I  answered  with  passion : 

"I  would  that  I  might  harm  no  one !  Though 
it  slay  me ;  though  I  must  walk  through  fire  for 
untold  ages  to  avoid  offense;  yet  I  choose  it 
rather ;  yea,  a  thousand  times  rather !" 

Then  for  the  last  time  the  Resplendent  One 
smiled  down  upon  me. 

"You  have  chosen  well.  But — does  it  suffice, 
to  harm  no  one?  Yet  is  it  a  step  on  the  Path. 

196 


AFTERWORD 

Rest  here  in  peace,  for  the  moment  of  your  re 
turn  to  earth  is  not  fully  come." 


He  is  gone  ******!  can 
the  singing  of  the  worlds  hurling  themselves 
through  space  ******  it  is  granted 
me  to  perceive  how  their  orbits  interlace  ever 
lastingly  ****** 


197 


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